Finding Grace
by Hallucifer
Summary: After months of a lonely, desperate Sam Winchester confiding his troubles to him through the cage door, Lucifer breaks out to find his vessel. Wanting a break from his old life, Sam leaves with the only creature that's ever fully understood him, but still, he wants something more from Lucifer. And maybe he and Lucifer can teach each other something, too. Samifer. Mid-season 9.
1. Confidant

It takes two hours of white knuckled driving, foot pressed hard against the accelerator, speeding through the empty country roads, until he gets there, skidding the car to a halt with complete disregard to the allocated parking spaces. What did it matter anyway? Not only was it into the early hours of the morning, but no one else came here anyway. He highly doubted a traffic warden was going to come wandering by at two am to tell him off for parking across three spaces.

There's an ache in his fingers when he finally unfurls them from gripping the Impala's slim steering wheel. He flexes his hands for a few moments, getting the blood flowing in the digits once more. It's a minor issue, nothing compared to the pounding in his temples, the tightness in his chest. His legs are shaking when he finally opens the car door and steps out.

It's cold. Maybe because it's night and still in the last remnants of winter, or perhaps because it's always cold here. The wind was blowing his hair in his eyes. He stuck his hands in his pockets, though the chill hardly bothered him. Either way, he hadn't come to stand around in the parking lot. He shouldn't have really come at all, but he was here now, he told himself, so there was little point to not going inside.

The door isn't locked, of course. What would be the point? Not only was the place abandoned, but now half-destroyed. The roof had been blasted off a few years back. The media had claimed it had been some kind of explosion, cause by an electrical fault maybe. Sam had never heard of an electrical fault blasting a whole roof off before, but he supposed they had to say something. Of course they didn't understand what had really happened.

He made his way through the building, steps echoing on the stone floors. The corridors were generally intact, though plagued with dust and debris. There was the angel statue, standing still, though a crack ran down its face. Broken angel. Fitting, really.

The door to the main room was splintered, barely holding on its hinges. The first time he'd come back, Sam had genuinely expected it to fall off in his hand, but he didn't worry anymore. The whole building seemed unsound, but there was nowhere he felt safer.

It's hardly warmer inside with the open roof, but the moon provides some illumination. The old pews are all broken, the floor clear, sealed again where once a gaping doorway, formed from blood, had opened.

He crosses the floor, going over to the altar and reaching behind it for the box he long ago stashed here. He'd have to stock up on supplies soon; they were running low.

But there's enough. He puts the box on top of the altar and takes out a few things: a bronze bowl, a jar of demon blood, chalk, holy oil. The candles are already laid out around the room. He'd put them there the first time and left them. He'd cleaned up this room too, pushing the remains of the pews back against the side walls. He wanted it to look nice, just around the altar, at least. Convents were supposed to look nice, weren't they? He'd lain a red cloth out, made of velvet. He felt bad using up his and Dean's money, but sometimes he saw these little things, and they just felt right, so he brought them here. Like the mirror. That had been an expenditure, but once he'd figured out what he needed to do, it didn't feel right just bringing any old slab of glass. It was beautiful, polished, though old fashioned. The frame was metal, with a pattern of twisting roses. He left it propped up on the altar whenever he left, but now he picks it up and takes it to the centre of the room, setting it on the floor.

He places the bowl just before it, unscrewing the lid of the jar and pouring the blood neatly into the dish where it settled, garish and red. Next is the chalk, which he uses to draw a circle, big enough to surround him and the mirror inside. He used to have to bring a book with all the sigils in to copy them accurately, but now he knows them by heart and it takes a mere few minutes to draw them around the edges of the circle. Then around this, he carefully traces another circle in holy oil. He lights it carefully with his lighter, not even flinching at the sudden eruption of flame. Once satisfied, he sits down, cross-legged in the centre so he can see his reflection in the mirror. Taking his knife from his belt, he hoists up his sleeve and cuts a small sigil into his arm, careful to put it where Dean won't notice, along with the fading scars of the same symbol, over and over again. He leaves the wound open as he speaks.

"_Bvtmon tabges babalon, vin nonca aspt poamal de zizop ar nonci adgt ef._" *

He closes his eyes. The air seems to still around him. It's subtle, almost unnoticeable, but he can feel it. It spreads out, seeming to hover and swell about him. The candles around the room flicker and light. Something stirs inside him. Almost. The shadow of something. But it's there.

He opens his eyes and smiles into the mirror. "Hi."

His lips don't move except for in his reflection. It still looks like him, but there's something different behind the eyes. It's not quite his voice as it speaks. "Hello, Sam."

He feels stupid for almost wanting to cry with relief. Every time, he's so scared it's not going to work. The voice is faint, weak, barely able to come through, but it's there.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, voice thick. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Of course not. You're never a disturbance, Sam. Not to me." The presence shifts a little within him, as if trying to get comfortable, trying to reach further inside him. "You seem troubled," it notes, contorting the reflection on his face into something of a concerned frown.

Sam sighs. "It's no big deal."

"You're here. It's clearly a big enough deal that you wish for someone to listen."

Sam feels the guilt pass through him, the shame at how absurdly ridiculously this is. He's coming running here, _again_, like some schoolgirl come to cry on a friend's shoulder. "I'm being stupid," Sam declares, more to himself than anything, glancing around at the artifacts and sigils and holy fire. "All this, just to whine about my problems to you. Why would you even care? Maybe I should just go and-"

"No." The voice is firm. Something within him tightens, as if attempting to hold him in place. "I do care, Sam. You know I do. Stay."

Somehow that just makes him feel worse. _You're not supposed to care_, he wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead he finds tears stinging at his eyes, hands shaking as he clenches them in his lap. "Lucifer..."

The presence within him stirs, seeming pleased to finally be addressed directly. It feels as if it's trying to embrace him from within, and Sam smiles weakly at the attempted comfort.

"Tell me what's bothering you, Sam," Lucifer presses gently. A sharp anger swells inside Sam's shared body suddenly. "Has that Gadreel come near you again?"

"No," Sam says quickly, shaking his head. "I haven't found him yet."

Lucifer's anger continues to write inside of him, and Sam makes a conscious effort to reach out to the presence with him, as if to reassure it. "Kill him," Lucifer hisses. "Believe me, if I have the slightest opportunity, I will do it myself."

"I know." He pauses, waiting as Lucifer's presence slowly settles inside of him. "I don't care about Gadreel, not all that much. I just... feel betrayed."

"By Dean?"

"Yeah. I... I know he thought he was doing what was best for me, but it was like, he didn't even care about my opinion. He never thought to ask me, or to hear me out."

"I know, Sam." Something uncomfortable flickers through Lucifer's being. "Michael was always much the same with me. Our brothers do not trust our judgment, it seems."

Sam sighs. "Tell me about it," he mutters.

A cool wind shifts through the open room of the convent, making the candles flicker, but they remain burning strongly.

"Is there more you want to talk about, Sam?"

Sam shakes his head, mildly fascinated as his reflection does not move, simply staring back at him. "No. I'm sorry. I guess I just wanted someone to listen who... gets it, you know."

"I'll always be here to listen, Sam."

"I know." A shaky smile touches his face. "I know."

He's sure Lucifer can feel his anxiety, the shameful, shaky state of his mind, the desperation. The words escape his lips before he can stop them.

"I miss you so much..."

Lucifer seems to sigh within him, what sparse presence manages to bring itself through brushing against Sam's soul in an attempt at comfort.

"I thought..." Sam's voice is thick, shaky, the tears falling now. "If Dean had just let things be, if I could have just died knowing I'd done some good at last." He breathes in deeply, a weak attempt to calm himself, but the words continue to spill out. "I could have come back," he says.

"I miss you, too, Sam," Lucifer replies simply.

Sniffing back tears, Sam finds the words spilling from his mouth with little restraint. "It's... pathetic, I know. But you're the only person I can talk to. Dean, you know, we've been with each other so long and I trust him, I do. But there's just some things he can't seem to understand. I've always been okay with that, but..."

"I know, Sam. You shouldn't feel ashamed for wanting someone to understand."

Roughly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Sam nods, forcing a grateful smile. "Thanks... Lucifer. Honestly."

He feels Lucifer's smile through their connection. "I'm glad to have made you feel better, Sam. I appreciate that we're getting past the whole devil stigma enough that you feel able to talk to me."

Sam looks down at the floor, shifting a little uncomfortably. "Sorry. I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. It's just... natural caution, I guess. You know, I grew up being taught not to trust anything paranormal."

"It's alright, Sam."

Sighing, Sam lifts his left arm to look at the watch on his wrist. It's late. Too late and Dean would be waking up soon. "I should go," he mumbles.

There's a flash of some kind of reluctance from Lucifer, but the archangel says nothing.

"I'll... see you soon, okay?"

"I would like that, Sam."

"I'll make sure there's plenty of supplies stocked up," Sam continues, more speaking his thoughts aloud to fills the silence than anything. He doesn't like time to think when hear, afraid that he might end up saying something he shouldn't, something he wouldn't be able to take back. There's a lot he wants to say. "And more candles. Pure white ones. They... They remind me of you."

He feels Lucifer smile once more. "That's good of you, Sam." He pauses. "Take care of yourself, Sammy."

Biting his bottom lip, Sam nods, studying once more the eerie non-reflection of himself in the mirror. "Bye, Lucifer."

"Goodbye, Sam."

Refusing to allow himself to stay any longer, no matter the desire to, Sam quickly gets to his feet and steps out of the circle, the touch of the holy fire quickly burning away the connection and forcing whatever presence is left out of him.

Now feeling distinctly empty inside his own head, Sam gather an old jug long left behind and fills it with water from the still barely working old tap in the back room. He puts out the fire, letting the water run to clear the sigils for the floor. Letting anyone mess around with this stuff would not be a good idea.

He tidies everything else away carefully, placing the box of supplies neatly back behind the altar. He takes his time going round the room, carefully extinguishing each candle one-by-one.

Once finished, Sam pauses in the doorway, looking back at the room with something close to longing. Eventually, he sighs, pulling the door closed behind him and leaving the place where not many knew that the devil had once risen out of his cage from.

* * *

Lucifer didn't see Michael much anymore. The cage was vast, not even constrained by the kind of physics there were on earth. It was an ever shifting reality, and after their initial angry scraps after falling into it, the two brothers had separated to opposite sides of their prison. The little human, Adam, followed after Michael, scared and lost. And once, Lucifer had had Sam, before he was taken away.

But Sam was hardly enjoying his escape to freedom. Not that he'd had much choice in Death taking him away. But the hunter had a habit of playing with the idea of coming back, using complex spells and rituals to be able to keep in contact with Lucifer.

Lucifer appreciated that. The cage was hardly a pleasant place, and to hear his true vessel's voice, no matter how faint, to know that after everything, he had still been right in that Sam could understand and feel at home with him, for all that, Lucifer was grateful.

He was not, however, pleased to hear of Sam's hardships. And certainly, he was not pleased to hear another angel, one of his own brothers, had violated his vessel by tricking his way to Sam's permission. Lucifer had always known Sam would come to him eventually, but he had never forced it. He could have tricked Sam, but the idea repulsed him. He had wanted Sam to say yes because Sam understood and agreed with him, not because he was forced to. And the idea that someone else had taken Sam's consent so lightly stirred within Lucifer an anger that boiled within him restlessly.

Eager to aid their connection however he could, Lucifer was currently clinging to the very roof of the cage (not that Hell had any real concept of up or down, but this was where the door was located). He gripped the bars, tightening his hold, but knowing it was no good. For years, after he had first been banished to this place, he'd struck the walls over and over in a fury, but built as they were by God, they would not break. And like binds, clamped around the edge of the door and holding it to the frame were the seals, all six-hundred of them.

Of course, any sixty-six broken would unlock the door, but they had resealed themselves once more.

Looking up, he could see the diminishing opening that had connected him to Sam briefly. It was like a bad telephone line, only able to transmit his voice and vague reflections of his feelings. A similar thing had once been used by Azazel to communicate with him.

Lucifer sighed. It was rather like looking out a prison window. A dirty, almost opaque prison window. Nonetheless, he tried to push closer, as if up against the metaphorical glass, reaching out for the last, fading sense he could get of Sam's retreating figure. If he really concentrated, he could hear his footsteps, getting quieter and quieter. He must be almost outside by now.

Lucifer was about to give in and retreat back to some lonely corner when a flash of something else caught his attention. Snapping his attention quickly to the fading open line, Lucifer searched his mind for the familiar presence. He knew this, this sense of power. What was it?

Another angel? No. No, it wasn't alive, not in its own right. Some object? A heavenly weapon? No...

It was the rings.

The horsemen's rings.

Did Sam have them on him? He didn't think so. He certainly would have been able to sense them through the open connection, and this was too faint. But Lucifer pressed closer nonetheless, desperate not to lose this sensation of...

Hope?

It was like a magnetic impulse, the rings toward the cage. It unlocked through something otherworldly and magical, not physical. Their presence nearby caused a spark, like the presence of heat near a candle wick, but not quite strong enough to ignite a flame. This was only as weak as that. It didn't even feel like all four rings. Death would have taken his back, but it wasn't out of the question that he would have charged the Winchesters to guard the other three. That idiot Dean probably left them in his precious car. Yes, and if Sam had driven the car here...

Gathering his strength, Lucifer threw his power at the cage door. It rattled, but remained as hopelessly closed as ever. No, there was no chance of the door itself opening, and besides, Michael would surely notice and Lucifer was still not at all keen on the whole apocalypse idea. But the rings, the connection, it was like the binding around the cage disintegrated just a little, just briefly. Time was longer in Hell, of course, so what it would take Sam to get into the car and leave, taking the rings with him, could, just maybe, give Lucifer the time he needed.

He threw himself at the door, again and again. It rattled, quivered, shook, but remained locked. And the connection that Sam had left behind was ever fading. But it was no good, his power was too great for such a small opening anyway. The true form of an angel was both colossal and dense.

The whole true form, at least.

Lucifer paused, mind racing. Having taken the tablets from that idiot scribe, Metraton, Lucifer knew more about his own kind than most. Angel forms were diverse, metaphysical, like the particles of gas. And the connection was closing.

Gathering every inch of his archangelic power, Lucifer drew a swelling cluster of his fractured grace together, drawing it out in a shifting, golden mass of smoky energy. After years of Hell and demon blood and being cut off from heaven, his grace had never been whole since. He'd twisted his own powers with those of the demons to keep strong, but this here, in his hand, was the source of his archangelic fury, the initial power bestowed on him by God at the moment of his creation. It looked like an orb, almost like a human soul. But humans souls were pitiful and tiny. This would have been the size of a large human house, and it was only a part of him. He could divide his power, strip it down into two bits much smaller than usual, small enough to fit through that fading gap.

Lucifer paused, looked up at the thin opening. Sam's heartbroken, exhausted voice echoed in his head, desperate for some comfort. It was with that in mind, that Lucifer gathered this mass of power and cast it up and out into the world. And as the thin, smaller and depleted remains of himself, he clawed his way up after it.


	2. Reunion

He more climbed than flew up out of Hell. It was, needless to say, not a pleasant journey. It must have taken days, weeks perhaps, and when he finally burst out as a flickering mass of faded angelic energy, much smaller than usual, he could only drift around the interior of the convent until he regained some strength.

It was not much, but that was to expected. He'd ripped most of his power out and thrown it through the small portal to goodness only knew where. Angelic energy had a sense of embedding itself somewhere and keeping itself safe. Sometimes lost graces formed life in trees or other plants, sometimes it incased itself inside something. He could find it again, but that could wait. The journey out of Hell had wounded him anyway. He had to regroup, find a vessel, find Sam.

Unfortunately, he held no delusions that those would be the same thing. Not that it mattered for now. Being with Sam was the priority, not getting Sam to say yes.

Detroit. If there was anything left of Nick- and unless some humans had cleared it away, there would be- he could rebuild the vessel. Yes, go to Detroit.

He could travel in this shell of his true form, slowly, as smoky light and energy. He drifted, finding his way with the magnetic currents of the earth guiding him. Maryland wasn't too far from Detroit, five hundred miles, not much more. He didn't know how long it was he travelled, but finally the familiar sight of an old, abandoned building came into sight. He dove downward, pushing back the door and up the stairs through which Sam had once come to him to say yes.

The place was untouched. The streets around were empty. This was a derelict part of town, cleared out by the demons that had surrounded him in those times. No one had made any effort to check this old room, and the bones that lay on the floor were undisturbed.

Reforming one human being was easy enough. Muscle and skin and life stretched out over it, and Nick's eyes open, wide and terrified, and looked up at him with sudden recognition.

"Yes."

He wove his way in, pushing himself through every cell and nerve. Slowly the looseness of his true form gave way to something much more solid, and suddenly he could feel the hardwood of the floor underneath him, the half-rotten clothes that had still covered the bones brushing against his skin.

Sitting up was an effort. He felt drained, a bit like after his fight with Michael all those eons ago. Tired, he supposed.

But free.

The realisation hit him and he felt the corner of this new mouth stretch upward into a satisfied smile. Yes, free. And he could find Sam.

He got to his feet, rolling his head and stretching his back. Stiff, nothing like the exhilaration of being with Sam, but it would do.

It was night. He walked out onto the dark street, feeling the nippy air bite at him. Not that it bothered him. Something at his core had been cold since he fell, and it felt all the worse now he'd torn part of his grace out. No matter. Temperature he could handle. Getting to Sam was the important thing, and from their chats he knew Sam was at a bunker in Kansas. A thousand miles away.

Flying wasn't an option. He could feel no strength in his wings, if they were even still there. As it stood, he was likely currently no stronger than the average demon. But he was clever, and demons were stupid. Lucifer was a survivor, if nothing else.

He started walking. Gradually, this old part of town gave way to a newer, more inhabited area. It must have been late. Only the odd human wandered the streets, and those that passed close enough to him to see in the dark gave him curious looks, them waddled in their thick coats, and him in these flimsy, worn clothes of thin fabric.

That wouldn't do, he supposed. Standing out was not a good idea right now. Walking on, he slipped down a side alley between two closed shops. One sold clothes, if the crudely dressed mannequins in the front windows were anything to do by. He found a back door, popping the lock easily by merely pushing the door. He still had his strength, thankfully. In a moment faster than any human could comprehend, he had picked up the first shrill note of an alarm and mentally shut the system off, along with all its prying cameras.

The store was dark with the electric lighting turned off, but he could see just fine. There had been a time when he had planned to dress Sam in finery, because he deserved it, and Lucifer had dreamt of pure white clothes in Sam's form, a sight that would make him look like the angel he was. But aside from that, he'd never put much thought into clothes. Why would he? All of Heaven dressed the same.

He shed Nick's old clothes, destroying them with a mere thought. Best not to leave evidence. He soon found the section of the store with undergarments and found a pair simply enough. Socks, too, were nearby. The outer clothes were a little more complicated, racks and racks of different shapes and colours and designs. Jeans he'd seen Sam wear often enough, and Nick had too, so he found a pair, securing them with a slim leather belt.

There seemed a sea of different shirts. Vain humans, so obsessed with their appearance. He flicked through them idly, frowning at the strange phrases on some of them. What the hell was "swag"?

He settled on a simple plain white t-shirt. That would have been fine, but the humans outside had already been giving him weird looks for not being affected by the cold, so he found a grey jumper with a hood, and a black leathery jacket that zipped up at the front. Study boots, also black, not dissimilar to Nick's old ones, but they had practically worn through.

Now dressed in a way that wouldn't warrant unwanted attention, he slipped back out to the street and continued walking.

A large clock face in the middle of a paved circular area surrounded by shops told him it was approaching three in the morning. Underneath the clock was a large glass case displaying a map of the surrounding area. It seemed a place of tourist attraction, and the map with all its dots and squiggly lines pointed out various places of interest or use. One of these such points was a little symbol of an airplane.

Lucifer knew the basics of human forms of travel. There were the automobiles that puttered along the roads, the trains that clanked along their fixed railway lines, and the planes that flew up in the sky, fastest of them all. Well, fast sounded good right now.

Even with his depleted energy, walking was easy and he soon founded the place. 'Detroit Metro Airport' the large sign on the front read.

The building was bigger than most he'd seen. Even at this hour, it was brightly lit and people wandered the interior. Corridors stretched off in every direction it seemed, all polished and shining white. There were signs, thankfully, lots of them. He followed the arrows pointing to departures, entering another wide open space where people were queuing before various desks under a large sign reading: 'check in'.

Money. Humans always needed money. It was simple enough to use his power to locate a person with a large wad of those banknotes he'd seen and to transfer them to his own pocket.

He approached the ticket desk, joining the line of humans, though it was to his distaste to have to follow their rituals. Had this not been for Sam, he wouldn't have considered it worth it.

The queue was fairly short, presumably because of the late hour, and he soon found himself stood before a desk, behind which was a smartly-dressed human woman with pinned back dark hair.

"Hello, sir. How can I help you?"

"I need to get to Kansas."

"Kansas City International?"

He didn't know. Anywhere in Kansas would be close enough. It shouldn't take long to walk the rest of the way to the bunker. He could have walked from here, but he wasn't willing to wait days to find Sam, hence his participation in this charade. Besides, he was too tired right now. Ripping part of his grace out hadn't been easy.

"Yes, that'll do."

"One-way or return?"

He had no plans to return to anywhere Sam wasn't. "One-way."

The woman smiled and began tapping at her computer. "Okay, your name, sir?"

He opened his mouth, then paused. Stupid humans. Idiot humans. They knew nothing of the truth of what had happened, but they were happy to label him the bad guy and his name didn't go down well with them. "Luce."

"Surname?"

He paused again. "Winchester."

She tapped the information into her computer. "Okay, and if I could just see some I.D.?"

Lucifer frowned. "I.D.?"

"Passport, or driver's license? Anything with your details and picture will do."

Damn. Did he have enough strength left to conjure an illusion? He quickly scanned the surrounding human minds. What was a driving license? He gleamed an image of what one was expected to look like and caused the image of one to form in his hand, a little plastic rectangle with a picture of his current form and the name 'Luce Winchester'.

The woman studied it briefly, before nodding and Lucifer dropped his hand and gratefully allowed the image to disappear.

"Okay, that's great, sir. That'll be seven hundred and fifty-eight dollars, and your flight leaves in just under two hours."

He took the wad of cash from his pocket, quickly counting out the notes and pushing them across the desk. She blinked at them in mild surprise, and Lucifer frowned. What? That was money, wasn't it? What more did she want?

She began putting it into her little till nonetheless, handing him back two dollars in change. "Okay, sir? If you'd just like to hand over your baggage."

"I don't have any."

"Hand luggage?"

"None."

Again, she seemed a little surprised, but maintained her polite smile. "Okay, sir." She printed off a little slip with information on. "Here's your boarding pass. If you'd just like to head through there to your terminal."

He nodded, taking the pass and turning on his heel toward where she had pointed. Down more corridors he travelled, studying the ticket as he walked. It was informative, at least, telling him his flight number and time, and even a specific seat. It had his name- well, the name he'd given- printed on: Luce Winchester. He smiled at that.

The ticket said to head to gate A-6, so he followed the signs until he found the right area, finding, to his dismay, more airport staff he would have to talk to.

He joined the queue at a strange gateway, a doorless doorway through which everyone was being made to walk. These humans had such strange rituals. The men stood by it asked to see his boarding pass, and the I.D. again.

Lucifer scowled, conjuring the illusion into one hand once more. The men studied it, nodded.

He was gaining something of a perpetual headache with straining his powers this much. And to make matter worse, they made him take off the jacket and shoes he'd just got hold of, and as he walked under the weird doorway, it made a horrendous buzzing noise.

"Any metal on your person, sir?"

"Excuse me?"

"Belt buckles? Shoe straps?"

"I am wearing a belt, yes..." Why on earth did that matter?

"Lift your shirt, please?" One of the men said.

Lucifer frowned. The urge to simply stick his hand through the man's chest was increasing, but unfortunately that was likely to cause rather a bit of attention. His head throbbing, his whole form in this borrowed vessel, with half its grace missing, felt weak, and he just wanted to find Sam.

_Sam._

Only for Sam did he lift the shirt as asked, letting them wave some ridiculous contraption over him which buzzed by his belt.

"Okay, go through," the man said eventually.

Lucifer shoved his shirt back down, less than pleased, and stalked onward.

Thankfully, he was soon able to make his way onto the plane. It was bigger than he'd expected, but still minute by angel standards. His true form in all its full size could have stepped on it. The thought gave him some satisfaction as he showed the boarding pass to a woman stood in the plane's entrance and she pointed him to his seat which was marked with a number.

It wasn't entirely uncomfortable thankfully, and it was next to a window. He leant back against the padding, letting the tiredness of his form overtake him. He felt the urge to shut his eyes, but years of Hell had taught him not to let his guard down. Of course he could easily overpower these humans, but he'd rather remain alert.

He suppressed a distasteful comment as a human bumbled over and dropped down into the seat beside him. Already the plane was full of babbling humans conversing and their infants screaming. The sound was grating to him.

Thankfully the female human beside him was rather quiet. She was elderly and dressed rather somberly, in mostly black, with trimmed edge of white. Even her hair was mostly covered.

Lucifer watched her disinterestedly from the corner of his eye. She had bowed her head, hands clasped together. She remained like that for a few moments, before raising her head and noticing Lucifer watching her.

"I hope you don't mind," she said. "I've never liked flying. It puts my mind at ease to pray for our Lord to give us a safe flight."

"Our Lord?" Did she mean...?

"Almighty God, of course," the woman said. "He protects those who put their love and faith in him."

Something vague urge within him wanted to rage, to beat this stupid human woman until she knew how wrong she was. _I loved him. I had faith in him. And for that he cast me out..._

But right now, he was too tired.

"Protects them from what?"

"From harm," the woman explained patiently. "From the Devil's sin and temptation."

It was an effort to keep the smirk from his face. "The Devil? What does he do then?"

"He tempts us away from God's path. He whispers in humans ears to lead them to sin."

Lucifer made a small noise of amusement, looking away as the plane's engines began to whir. "I assure you," he said. "I have better things to do."

* * *

Lucifer did not find the flight very enjoyable. It was strange and felt unsteady, and horribly _slow_. He could have flown round the earth multiple times in the two hours it took them to finally touch down in Kansas.

The woman had left him alone soon after his last comment, appearing to find him unnerving, which Lucifer found somewhat amusing.

He had hoped to sense some hint of his grace as they travelled, but he had picked up nothing. He would have to search for it soon, when he regained some strength.

The humans at this new airport wanted to see the I.D. again. He suffered through their stupid routines, before finally making his way out onto the street. The sky was slowly lightening, and with the sun rising behind him, he began walking.

The sky was blue by the time he reached Lebanon, Kansas, finding his way through the impressions he'd got from Sam's memories through the weak connection they'd had during their conversations. His legs felt heavy, his head aching. Even his eyes felt tired as they scanned the secure double doors of the bunker entrance.

It would be locked, surely. He could hardly just go up and knock on the door. Dean would be there, of course. He certainly had no desire to meet with the older Winchester brother. Especially after what had happened with Gadreel. Lucifer wasn't sure he would be able to restrain himself from lashing out at Dean for treating Sam's consent with such little respect.

He wandered round the large building, studying the area until he found some kind of wide backdoor. From the track of road leading to it, he presumed it was for automobiles.

It was locked, but easy enough for his power to pop open and lift for him to slip under.

Sure enough, Dean's precious car was inside, along with some other vehicles. There was another door that led out into the building, so Lucifer headed past the cars and quietly through it.

There were many corridors, but hearing a faint sound of movement in the distance- further than any human could hear- he headed toward it.

Silently rounding a corner, he could see into the entrance of a small kitchen room, and something within him seemed to swell in relief as he recognised the tall, long-haired form stood with his back to him as he placed things away in a high cupboard.

For a few moments, he just watched him. He studied the stretch of plaid fabric against his broad shoulders as he moved, the soft sway of his hair, the muscles in his arms. Truly beautiful.

"Hi, Sam."

Sam jumped, an empty mug in one hand slipping from his grip and clattering into the sink. The hunter spun on the spot, hand reaching quickly toward his belt for some kind of weapon, before he realised who had addressed him. Sam froze, eyes wide. His mouth had dropped open. He seemed to make several attempts to speak, before the word finally choked its way out of his mouth. "L-Lucifer..."

He stepped further into the room, stopping just before Sam.

"What?" Sam's eyes kept running over him, as if unsure what he was seeing was really real. "How did..."

"You sounded like you needed a friend," Lucifer said. "And I'm always here for you, Sam."

There were tears in Sam's eyes. Hand shaking, he slowly reached out and gently touched Lucifer's arm. "You... You're really here."

"Yes, Sam." Sam had told him about the hallucination, the warped, self-depreciating attack of Sam's own consciousness on itself, tainted by Hell to try and convince him that the being that had always cared for him was angry at him. "I promise you it's me, Sam."

"You..." Sam seemed to swallow thickly, forcing his words. "You shouldn't be here," he whispered, glancing anxiously toward the door. "Dean..."

"I came for you, Sam."

An anxiousness was quickly creeping onto Sam's face. Lucifer could practically hear his thoughts racing in a panic. "Dean can't see you. You have to hide somewhere. My room. Go wait for me there."

In the brief exhilaration at finally having found Sam, he had forgotten the weakened state of his powers, and that flying currently wasn't an option. The attempted surge of power made his head spin, and unable to stop himself, Lucifer felt his body sway with a lack of balance, as Sam rushed to grab him.

"Lucifer!" The Hunter exclaimed. "What... What's wrong?"

He groaned, pushing himself off of Sam and adamantly taking his own weight. Such a pitiful display was not something he would have preferred Sam to see. "I'm fine. My powers need to recuperate. I... I had to split my grace to squeeze out of the cage."

"What? What do you mean?"

Lucifer waved his questions away. "I'm sorry, Sam, I'm not at my best right now. If you have somewhere secure, I would appreciate being able to rest there."

"Yeah," Sam whispered quickly. He sounded like he was struggling to keep up, but jumped into action nonetheless. He grasped Lucifer's hand. "We'll have to sneak upstairs. Come on."


	3. Refueling

It seemed almost comical, sneaking and peering around the corners of the bunker walls as he was. He drew the line at actual tiptoeing, but he'd explicitly told Lucifer they must be quiet, and thankfully, the archangel seemed to have a naturally light tread.

They'd made it up the stairs and were just rounding the corner when a door opened down the hall and Sam frantically shoved Lucifer into a nearby filing room.

Dean appeared, just as Sam was closing the door. "Hey."

"Hey." Sam spun around, mentally wincing at the uneven pitch of his voice. "Er..."

Dean frowned slightly, expression clearly questioning. "What were you doing in there?"

"Nothing. Er, nothing!" He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. "Just... putting something away."

Dean blinked, studying him carefully in the clear manner of someone who could tell something was amiss, before he eventually shrugged and walked on. "Alright."

Sam watched him go, waiting until he rounded the corner, before releasing a tight sigh of relief. Usually Dean would have pressed more, but with things still tense between the two brothers, it seemed Dean had other things on his mind.

The door popped open behind him and Lucifer leant out, looking curious. He'd been hearing all this from Sam through their exchanges, but it was still strange to see the tight-knit Winchesters acting so frosty towards one another. "Not the friendliest of exchanges, Sammy."

Sam winced slightly at Lucifer pointing the situation out. Damn the archangel's ever acute observation skills. "Yeah... Things are kind of tense, you know."

Lucifer merely nodded, letting the matter drop. Though it may have had something to do with how heavily he was leaning on the doorframe. Sam snapped back into action.

"Okay, come on. My room's just down here."

They slipped inside and Sam sighed, leaning back against the now firmly closed door and watching as Lucifer walked slowly further into the room. Self-consciously, he found himself looking around his living space. The bed was made, his books and file stacked neatly on the side. The room seemed kind of bare now he looked at it. Did Lucifer think that, or did he admire his neat streak?

Actually, Lucifer didn't seem too bothered, and Sam mentally cursed himself for his vain thoughts. _Actually_, Lucifer seemed barely conscious as he dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed, one of his hands grasping his temples.

"Hey!" Sam rushed forward, quickly taking the seat beside him. "Are you okay? What... God, Lucifer. What the hell?"

The archangel groaned slightly, though managed to raise his head to force a smile at Sam. "I'll be fine. It wasn't easy to get here."

"_How_ did you?" Sam asked. He paused as something occurred to him. "Is Michael out, too? Oh god, we can't let-"

"No, no," Lucifer cut in quickly. He watched the relief seep onto Sam's face and sighed. "It was a number of things allowed my escape. It was... Think of it as a brief weakness of the cage door. It was still closed, but I could push it open and slip through the crack. In parts."

"Parts?"

Lucifer nodded slowly, staring down at one hand of his vessel as he tiredly flexed the fingers. "My true form was far too large, too dense. I had to siphon it off. I took a great chunk of my grace and threw it out before me. The weaker the angel, the smaller they are. So with that gone, I could squeeze the rest of my form through."

"So where's your grace now?"

"I don't know," Lucifer admitted. "I have to find it." He made to get to his feet, but immediately swayed and collapsed back down on the bed.

"_Easy_," Sam said. "Just hold on, you... you look kind of..." He trailed off. Was telling the devil he looked like he about to faint ever a good idea?

Lucifer smiled, seeming to have picked up on his train of thought. "It's alright, Sam. My powers are depleted right now." Biting his bottom lip in slightly discomfort, he experimentally rolled his head slightly, testing the muscles. "Climbing out of Hell wasn't easy. This form needs time to recover."

"Right. Er, okay. Okay." Sam scrambled to his feet, gesturing to the bed. "Lie down. Erm, if that's, like, how angels rest?"

Lucifer gave a tired grin of amusement. "More or less," he said, shuffling back and swinging both legs up onto the bed. The grin faded as he allowed himself to drop back and lie down. The pillow felt nice, soft and supportive. "Thank you, Sam. You know I wouldn't come to anyone else for this."

Sam smiled uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Lucifer nodded, rolling his head to the side slightly to look up at Sam. "Just don't let your brother stab me."

Sam couldn't help but smile at the comment, nodding his head as he slipped down into a nearby chair. "I'm just... Surprised."

"About what?" Lucifer asked.

Sam shrugged. "That you... you know, trust me. To look after you. Well..." He blushed slightly. "Not look after, kind of, just watch over. I mean, while you're... not at full strength."

Lucifer looked rather amused by his ramblings. "You mean that I trust _you_ not to stab me either?"

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded, unable to meet Lucifer gaze.

"_Are_ you going to stab me, Sammy?"

Sam said nothing. They both knew the answer to that question.

Lucifer smiled, turning slowly to look up at the ceiling. "I know this is hard for you, Sam." His voice was soft, contemplative. "I know what it's like to be the odd one out, and have no one understand. And I know you feel like you shouldn't trust me because that's what you've been told and-"

"I do trust you." There was still a hint of an embarrassed flush on Sam's face, but he continued speaking nonetheless. "You said you'd never lie to me, or trick me. And, as it stands, you've kept that promise."

"I appreciate the benefit of the doubt, Sam." He sighed, eyes falling shut. "I'd like to think we've been through enough together that you're now at least inclined to not kill me."

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "I think so." He eyed the paleness of Lucifer's skin, the messy array of his hair, the way his limbs lay heavily against the bed, rather than the usual strength and swiftness with which he moved. "You okay?"

Lucifer gave a vague noise of discomfort in response. "I feel like I've just been through Hell."

Sam bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from laughing, rather glad Lucifer's eyes were still closed. "That's not funny."

The corner of his lips curling upward, Lucifer turned his head to look at him, eyes opening.

"Seriously," Sam said. "Can I do anything?"

Lucifer looked away slightly, seeming to contemplate. "You won't like it," he said.

"What?" Sam pressed.

Lucifer sighed. "I rebuilt this vessel so it's a little more... attuned to me than before, but still not what you'd call a perfect fit. Plus, my own state... Both would be aided with a form of... refueling."

Recognition dawned on Sam's features. "You want me to get you demon blood."

"I'm not asking you to drink it, Sam." He smirked slightly. "Though I wouldn't be adverse to it. I've always wanted you to be powerful, Sam." Despite his words, his tone was playful and Sam narrowed his eyes at him more in exasperation than real anger. Lucifer laughed softly. "So serious, Sammy."

Sam huffed, though the corner of his lips twitched. "Alright," he said eventually. "I'll do it. Just wait here and, for God's sake, don't let anyone in. I'll lock the door and take the key."

"You're too kind, Sammy."

Sam shook his head. "Or crazy," he said.

* * *

The whole crossroad-demon-summoned-into-a-devil's-trap act was easy enough to do. Sam didn't even give it time to speak before he had stuck a knife through its chest, pursing his lips as he looked down into the lifeless eyes as the body fell limp.

He slit the throat, holding the creature- some young female woman with dark hair- by the back of her shirt collar, letting the blow gush down into the metal basin he'd brought for that exact purpose.

Once it was full, he cast the body aside, casting it into the shrubbery of the nearby woods just beside the dirt road on which he stood. There it would rot before any found the remains. It was late afternoon, but the high trees made the area gloomy, and being a rather empty and rundown area, no one was likely to venture out this way. Besides, it was a rough area. Drug gangs were killing each other around here all the time.

Carefully, he tipped the bowl of demon blood into a large plastic container which he could seal with a screw-on lid. Kneeling on the dusty ground, Sam watched the liquid curiously, thick and sensuously red as it was.

An old habitual temptation stirred inside of him. But he wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't. Lucifer had joked but what if he really wanted him to? Was he being foolish, allowing himself to be tricked again, like so many other creatures had tricked him?

No. Despite what others may argue, experience assured him that really wasn't Lucifer's style. Lucifer despised those who were susceptible. His anger had been that others in Heaven could not think for themselves to consider whether there was something amiss with the orders God gave them. Lucifer had said to him directly that he felt his exclusion had been for having a mind of his own, and Sam hadn't missed the implication that he thought of Sam as the same. Lucifer valued him- in whatever way- for the traits that made them similar, and no matter what, Lucifer would not want a gullible fool for a vessel or anything else.

Emptying the last dregs from the bowl, he screwed the cap onto the container, ensuring it was tight, before picking it up and carrying it back to the car. The liquid sloshed inside as he walked, eventually falling still as Sam placed it securely in the boot.

Dean had questioned where he was going, of course, and Sam had mumbled something about a supply run, hence the bag of groceries sitting on the passenger seat. Obviously Dean would question what had taken him so long, but Sam already had an excuse prepared that they'd had none of his precious pie in the first shop, so Sam had gone to another. Hopefully the cherry-flavoured treat sat in the bag would divert his brother's attention.

So here he was, heading back to sneak in demon blood to the devil whom he was hiding in his room. Yes, that sounded crazy. But in the scheme of his life, he tried to justify that it was no more crazy than anything else he'd done.

And besides, he _did_ trust Lucifer. Kept promises, a mutual understanding, and years of being trapped in the cage together assured that. Yes, Lucifer was bad- in some senses- but Lucifer would never directly do wrong to him. Sam didn't know how Lucifer was feeling right now in regards to the rest of humanity, but the safety of his person wellbeing he knew was not in danger. With any luck, he could dissuade Lucifer from similarly committing any harm towards the rest of the planet's population.

What Lucifer wanted right now was indeed a question that needed to be asked. Sam was still in shock that he'd found his way out of the cage. And- selfishly- there was a swelling feeling of pride within him, that for the second time upon being freed to walk the earth, this powerful, ancient creature had come searching directly for him.

Sam turned the car into the lane leading up to the bunker, the types crunching as he slowed down. He stopped the car briefly to open the garage door, driving inside and parking up, before heading back to lower the door again.

He collected the shopping, taking another identical plastic bag to the one holding the groceries and placing inside it the container of demon blood.

He carried both through to the kitchen, finding the ground level empty. Dean must have been up in his own room. That was good, as it avoided any chance of him seeing the second carrier bag of what was definitely not groceries. But all the same, Sam sighed, a bitterness twisting inside him at how tense things still were between them.

Uninterrupted, he put the shopping away and carried the secretive parcel up to his own room. He slotted the key into the door, popping the lock open and slipping inside the room.

Lucifer didn't move as he entered. In fact, he seemed unaware, lying back on the bed with his eyes closed, head tilted slightly to the side, the grey hood of the jumper he was wearing slightly bunched up under his neck. He looked just like he was sleeping. He _was_, Sam supposed. Or unconscious. Or something. He'd seen Cas pass out before. Angels it seemed, were capable of and benefited from rest, even if it was only required in dire circumstances.

Deciding against waking him, Sam removed the container of demon blood from the bag and lay it carefully down on the bedside table. Stuffing the plastic bag away somewhere, he slid down onto the chair beside the bed, leaning forward and wringing his hands together.

Lucifer looked surprisingly peaceful. It was strange, seeing such a calm expression on the face of a being that usually radiated such anger. The new clothes were strange as he'd never seen Lucifer- in this body, at least- in anything other than that old pair of jeans and over-shirt which had belonged to Nick. Sam smiled as a vague memory from the cage reoccured to him where he'd asked Lucifer why he'd dressed like that and Lucifer said he'd found the clothes at the top of a basket, which had led to Sam trying not to laugh while explaining the purpose of a laundry bin. Lucifer was a lot better than Castiel when it came to understanding earthly things (mainly because Lucifer hated not being aware in any way), but even he slipped up every so often.

The idea made him seem that little bit... less imposing, he supposed. Not that Sam had ever been particularly imposed by him, since Lucifer had come to him and unsettled him with only his unexpected kind words and openness. But it made the daunting fact of his status as The Devil seem just slightly more obsolete, and reassured him a little that he wasn't too crazy in not outright hating this being like he knew everyone would think he should.

And yes, perhaps it did also make a little easier the fact that he was maybe perhaps kind of a little bit in love with Lucifer.

Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips as he ran his gaze over the passed out archangel on his bed. Yes, okay, more than a little bit in love with. But when someone appears to you one day and looks at you like you're not the freak everyone else thought, and understood you, and treated you not only like you were someone decent but someone special, well, what was he supposed to do?

* * *

The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of the laptop keys was the first thing Lucifer registered before opening his eyes. Blinking briefly up at the ceiling with it's glowing electrical bulb, Lucifer let his head fall to the side, gaze coming to rest on the figure sat on the chair beside the bed, laptop balanced on his knees.

"Sam."

The hunter's long fingers paused over the keyboard. Hair shifting with the motion, he snapped his head round to face Lucifer. "Hey," he said, upon seeing the archangel awake. "Um, you feel any better?"

Lucifer frowned softly, pushing himself up and bracing his hands behind him on the mattress. "Moderately. I think whatever of my grace I ripped out was rather influential on healing processes." He paused, noticing the container on the bedside table. Turning back to Sam, he smiled. "I appreciate it, Sammy."

Sam gave a small shrug in response, gaze adamantly fixed on his computer screen.

Lucifer didn't seem bothered by the lack of response, picking up the container and unscrewing the lid. He brought the opening to his lips and tilted it back, swallowing back the crimson liquid like water.

Sam watched him out the corner of his eye, some faint memory stirring in his mind of the hot rush of power he knew the substance caused to flow through your veins. To him as a human it had been like some powerful drug. He wondered what it felt like to Lucifer.

As the archangel finished draining the container, Sam was surprised to see him grimace.

"What?" he couldn't help but ask.

Lucifer loosely replaced the cap and placed the empty piece of plastic back on the side table. "Repulsive stuff," he said.

Sam blinked in surprise. "You don't like it?"

Lucifer shook his head. "It tastes of corruption. Bitter. It's like drinking the worst dregs of a human soul. Horrible."

"...Oh."

Seeing the look on his face, Lucifer seemed to garner his thoughts and spoke up again. "You may have liked it, Sam, but only because your human tastebuds are purely physical. Humans can't taste impurities. At least they can't recognise them. Besides, what you thought you tasted, it was the power you craved. People don't like the taste of cigarettes, but it seems good for its effects."

Sam nodded, unable to help but feel slightly relieved at the explanation. He wasn't keen to be proud of taking any pleasure in anything demonic.

Eager to drop the subject, Sam cleared his throat rather awkwardly. "So," he said, seeing Lucifer's attention fix on him. "Erm, what now?"

Lucifer drew one knee up to his chest, arms linked loosely around it. "I need to retrieve the rest of my grace."

"Okay. Any idea where it is?"

Lucifer shook his head. "I'll know it when I find it."

"Well, that shouldn't take long, right?"

Lucifer frowned.

"What?"

Lucifer sighed. "I don't believe I can fly in this current state."

"Oh." Sam paused as something occurred to him. "How did you get here then?"

Lucifer avoided his gaze with uncharacteristic hesitation.

"What?" Sam pressed.

Lucifer sighed again. "I took one of those airplanes."

A look of comical shock melted onto Sam's features. "What?"

Lucifer turned to glare at him.

"You took a plane?"

"Yes."

"You? You got on a plane?"

"_Yes_, Sam."

"How did you even-"

"I figured it out," Lucifer cut in, clearly eager to end this conversation. "I got here. That's what matters."

Sam couldn't help himself. The laugh bubbled up in his throat until it choked its way out of his mouth in a giddy chuckle. Seeing Lucifer's narrowed eyes glowering at him only seemed to make it worse, and before he knew it, he was in hysterics.

Lucifer continued to look unimpressed, but slowly the corner of his mouth began to shift upward. Something about seeing Sam in such a state couldn't help but make him feel pleased. Dropping the last hints of annoyance from his features, Lucifer found himself laughing, too.

It was only as he finally regained his composure that Sam realised that wad the first time he'd laughed- properly laughed- in a rather long time.

"I'm coming with you," he said.

Lucifer frowned. "What?"

"To find your grace. I'm coming with you. We'll find it together."


	4. On the Road

"But where are you going? _Why_ are you going?"

Sam sighed, zipping his bag shut and straightening up to face his brother. "We need some time apart, Dean. After everything that's happened, I... I just need space to think."

"What? No, Sammy, come _on_."

"_Dean_." Sam pursed his lips together, attempting to suppress his guilt at the look of utter anguish on his brother's face. "I'll be back, okay? Just give me some time."

"How much time?"

Sam sighed again, shaking his head. "I don't know." He picked up his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. "I don't know, Dean." He walked past him toward the steps that led to the main exit. One hand on the bannister, he looked back. "I'll see you soon."

Dean didn't seem to know what to say. Sam turned away, feeling more uncomfortable by the moment, climbing the steps and forcing himself to head out the door without looking back.

Lucifer was stood waiting for him, leaning on the railing above the stairway. He seemed to note the less than happy look on Sam's face, gaze fixed on him as Sam reached ground level. "Okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "You know, I think maybe some time apart really is a good idea for me and Dean right now. I'm not abandoning him. Just... I don't know. I think I'll find it easier to forgive him for this whole Gadreel thing if I'm away for a bit."

Lucifer nodded, standing straight and following as Sam led them down the road away from the bunker. They began walking toward the main road in silence, until Lucifer spoke up once more.

"Are we traveling by foot? It's no bother to me, but I thought humans tired after a while."

Sam glanced over at him and smiled. "No. We need to find a car. We couldn't have taken Dean's. I wouldn't do that to him," he joked.

Lucifer shrugged. "Okay. Where do we find a car?"

Sam looked slightly ashamed as he replied, "we'll kind of have to steal one. I don't exactly have money for these kind of things."

Lucifer smiled. "I'm sure we will make better use of it than some other human anyway, Sam."

On the outskirts of the nearest city, they found a small car park round the back of a set of shops, occupied by only three vehicles. Sam was contemplating the cheapest, oldest, and least likely to be bothered to be reported stolen, when Lucifer suddenly grasped his arm, drawing his attention to a man entering the parking lot.

"It's fine," Sam said. "Let him go and we'll take one of the others."

"No, Sam," Lucifer responded, gaze still fixed on the man. "I would not let that man go. That's a vampire."

Sam blinked in surprised, head snapping round to look at the man who was insofar unaware of their presence. He opened his mouth to ask Lucifer if he was sure, but the archangel had already moved, stalking quickly toward the man who looked up at his approach.

"What do you want?" the guy asked, eyes widening as Lucifer's hand suddenly clamped around his throat.

Sam rushed forward, unsure what to do. Was this a vampire? Or was Lucifer just saying that to excuse killing him?

However, the truth was quickly revealed as the man threw open his mouth, revealing a set of sharp teeth. He writhed in Lucifer's hold, attempting to bite him, when Lucifer literally tore through his throat with one simple swipe.

Sam winced as the separated head and body fell to the concrete. Lucifer destroyed them with a mere thought and Sam sighed.

"Well," he said. "I suppose that's one less monster in the world."

A set of car keys had been left where the body was once was. Sam picked them up, noting the symbol on them. A Mercedes. Oh, wow.

Sam quickly scanned the parking lot, instantly picking out the vehicle. It was nice. Rather new. The kind of thing he'd once envisioned himself owning as a lawyer. Shiny and pure white with a black roof.

He beckoned for Lucifer to follow him, trying to the little automatic button on the key, and sure enough hearing the door unlock.

He popped the boot, placing his bag in the back before moving round to the driver's side.

He opened the door and climbed in, seeing Lucifer do the same on the passenger side. He had to adjust his seat back a little, as he always tended to have to do, being the height he was. He showed Lucifer how to push the passenger seat back, as the archangel's current form was no more than two inches shorter than him.

Putting the key in the ignition, he was pleased to see the petrol tank almost full, revved the engine experimentally a couple of times, before backing out and turning out onto the road.

It was a few minutes into the drive that he noticed Lucifer looking uncomfortable. "You okay?" he asked. The archangel was still recovering, though he wasn't at immediate risk of passing out anymore.

Lucifer frowned. "This is restricting."

Sam blinked. He supposed that made sense. He only had vague memories from the cage from which to attempt to comprehend how large Lucifer's true form was. Being stuffed in this small vehicle must have felt a little claustrophobic.

Spying a button on the dashboard, Sam smiled. "Hold on." He pushed the button down, noting Lucifer's curious expression as a click sounded from above them and a sudden rush of air invaded the car as the roof withdrew and folded back into the boot.

Lucifer craned his neck to look at it, almost wide-eyed, and Sam grinned.

"Better?" he asked, the wind whipping at his hair and throwing it back behind him.

Lucifer faced forward once more, a slight smile touching his face as he nodded.

"Okay," Sam breathed, flexing his fingers on the leather wheel. "So, where are we going? I mean, do you have some idea?"

"No."

"None at all?"

"I wouldn't think my grace would have landed outside the country."

"But it might have?" Sam asked incredulously. A round the world trek was a bit more than what he'd had in mind. When he'd told Dean he would come back, he had kind of meant before he was fifty.

"It's a natural essence, Sam. It will have grounded itself amongst nature. Big cities are unlikely."

"Okay. Well, that narrows it down a little, I suppose. But I still have no idea where I'm driving to."

Lucifer shrugged, leaning back against the seat. "You choose, Sam. I'm patient. I will know when my grace is nearby. I would merely suggest traveling as far and wide as possible."

Sam nodded. He had to admit, the idea sounded rather nice. He'd never disliked road tripping with his brother. Sitting in the Impala together was something he'd always cherished, looking at the sights as they passed them, ending up in strange little towns, or discovering places they'd never knew existed. He wondered if Lucifer would enjoy it too. It was hard to know what such a powerful and ancient creature thought of things.

Seeing as Lucifer had journeyed to him from towards the east, Sam drove west. Lucifer claimed to have felt no hint of his grace on the journey, and insisted it was better to travel far and then double-check back on themselves if necessary. So it was within a few hours that they crossed the border from Kansas into the neighbouring state of Colorado.

Hunger had been creeping up on Sam as it was now well past lunch time and they'd left early morning. Last night, Lucifer had sat beside him, insisting he was recovered enough for Sam to take the bed, while he occupied the chair. Sam had lain feigning sleep for ages, facing away with a blush on his face, trying to force down the ideas plaguing his mind of letting Lucifer lie in the bed with him. He'd eventually fallen asleep, though some rather... interesting dreams had plagued him. He tried not to think about that now, as spying a sign indicating a service station in a few miles, he decided it was time for a break.

"We'll stop up here, okay?"

Lucifer had fallen quiet about an hour ago, one arm on the top of the car door, eyes closed as he let the wind blow in his face. Sam had wondered if he was still feeling rough, but as Lucifer turned to look at him he gave no indication of discomfort. "What for?"

"The car needs refueling. And... er, I'm kind of hungry."

He half-expected Lucifer to make some scoffing comment about humans and their inefficiencies, but he merely nodded. "As you wish, Sam."

Ten minutes later they turned off down a small side track which led to a small area with a petrol station, convenience store, and a small diner. Sam parked the car in the gravel area outside the diner, climbing out and stretching his legs.

Lucifer seemed pleased to be out of the car, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he looked around the area.

Sam led him into the diner, the little bell above the door chiming as they entered. Lucifer craned his head back to look at it curiously, but kept step with Sam as the hunted led them over to a small booth in the corner.

It was a pleasant little place with red leather seats and white tables. The floor was checked in alternate square of black and white, and a shiny metal bar with stools sat in front of the counter. Only a few other people occupied the diner, all busy with their meals or drinks.

Sam plucked the little plastic menu from where it was propped between the salt and pepper shakers. There was a selection of greasy burgers available which Dean would have loved, but Sam skimmed past them to the rather healthier section of the menu.

Lucifer, meanwhile, had picked up the pepper grinder and was studying it curiously, turning it over in his hands.

The motion brought a curious question to Sam's mind. "Have you ever eaten anything? Like, ever, I mean?"

Lucifer shrugged, shaking his head.

"Just... I've seen Cas eat. He, er, likes burgers."

Lucifer frowned slightly, but offered no comment.

"Have you ever drunk anything?" Sam continued. "...Besides demon blood, I mean."

Lucifer placed the pepper grinder back down, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms. He shook his head.

"Are you ready to order?" A smartly dressed waitress queried, notepad and pen held poised in front of her. She was a young girl, likely no older then nineteen or twenty, with blonde hair in a tight ponytail.

"Yeah. Can I get the chicken caesar salad and two coffees, please?"

Lucifer eyed him curiously but said nothing.

The waitress scribbled down the order and walked away to the kitchen. Lucifer watched her go, before slowly turning to Sam. "I presume you don't always order two beverages?"

Sam shrugged. "Just thought you might want to try some. You can have a bit of my salad too if you like?"

Lucifer frowned slightly, but let the matter drop, sliding down in his seat a little until he could lean his head back against the top of the booth.

Sam watched him with slightly concern. "You okay?"

Lucifer sighed, eyes slipping shut briefly. "Let's just say I'm rather eager to regain my full power. I should be able to heal instantly if we find my grace soon."

"If not, then how long?" He knew it should have been the opposite, but the thought of Lucifer not being at full strength unsettled him. Maybe it was just the concept was so strange, or maybe it was something to do with this being shielding him as best he could during their time in the cage together.

Lucifer shrugged. "A few days. Perhaps a little over a week. I would hope no more. Angels don't often get injured, but when they do it's rather a shock to the system."

Sam was about to comment when the waitress returned, placing two coffees in little white mugs with saucers down on the table, along with a small jug of milk. "Your food will be with you shortly."

Sam thanked her, taking the little pot of brown sugar on the table and tipping a small spoonful into his drink, before adding milk.

Lucifer eyed him curiously, before looking down at his cup with clear distaste. "What _is_ this?"

"Coffee," Sam replied with a smile. "Lots of people drink it."

"Why did you put that stuff into it?"

"Milk and sugar," Sam explained. "They change the taste a bit. There's lots of different ways to have coffee and everyone usually had a preference."

"What's yours?"

Sam shrugged. "Sometimes I just have it black, I mean, as yours is now. Or, like now, I put in a bit of milk and one spoonful of sugar." He nodded at Lucifer's drink. "Try it," he pressed.

Lucifer gave a frustrated sigh, but picked up the cup nonetheless, and Sam gave a shy smile at how much Lucifer was willing to do merely to please him. The archangel gave the liquid a cautious sip, face scrunching up slightly as he swallowed. "It's... bitter."

"Add some sugar," Sam suggested.

Lucifer frowned, but scooped a spoonful of the brown granules into his cup. He tried it again, seemed to consider it, before adding another spoonful, then another. Finally, Lucifer looked unexpectedly surprised upon trying to the drink again.

"It's... not unpleasant."

Sam beamed, lifting his own cup and holding it in front of his mouth in a vague attempt to disguise his glee. He couldn't help it. Seeing Lucifer puzzling things out was strangely entertaining, though he wasn't sure the archangel would appreciate Sam's strained attempts not to laugh at him.

He let Lucifer try a sip of his coffee with milk, but he quickly seemed to decide he preferred it without. The archangel held the cup with a certain elegance, like an aristocrat, two fingers just loosely hooked around the handle, though it never wavered in his hold. There was something generally just so graceful about Lucifer. It made Sam feel he was sitting in the presence of a king. Though perhaps that wasn't too far off.

The waitress brought his salad over, and Sam unwound the napkin from his cutlery and began to eat. He took a few bites, before piercing a bit of lettuce and chicken on his fork and offering it to Lucifer. "Try it."

Lucifer, who had just drained the coffee cup, frowned, but allowed Sam to place the food in his mouth. There was a slight crease on his brow as he chewed and swallowed. "Strange," he commented eventually.

Sam smiled, giving him a questioning look.

"It tastes like plant life. And chemicals."

Sam's smile dropped. He liked to think he ate fairly healthily (certainly much more so than Dean), and hearing about the processed ingredients in his food was something he'd never much enjoyed. "They use stuff to help it grow," he said. "It's mostly natural."

"I wouldn't say mostly," Lucifer responded.

Sam suddenly didn't feel so hungry, but this was the first time he'd had something to eat in hours, so he supposed he better finish it. He asked Lucifer if he wanted anymore, and the archangel shook his head.

They finished up and Sam asked for the bill, which was quickly brought over by the blonde-haired waitress. It came to twelve dollars and sixty cents. Sam placed down a ten dollar and five dollar note and told the waitress to keep the change.

"Thank you very much, sir," she beamed. "And can I just say, you two make a lovely couple."

Lucifer frowned, clearly bewildered, while Sam felt his face flush. He opened his mouth to stammer out some protest, but the girl had already bid them good day and walked off.

"Couple?" Lucifer questioned.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly to avoid answer, quickly getting to his feet. "Come on, we should go. Get some more driving done before it gets dark."

"Sam," Lucifer pressed, following him toward the door. "What did she mean by 'couple'? Obviously we're a couple."

Sam stumbled to a stop, turning to look at Lucifer, wide-eyed, his face now surely crimson. "What?"

Lucifer frowned. "Last I checked your human english language defined a couple of as two of something. There was clearly no one else with us. Why would she point that out?"

Sam sighed, turning away because he felt far too embarrassed to meet Lucifer's gaze right now. He pushed open the door of the diner and led Lucifer out into the car park. Knowing the archangel was never one to let anything drop, Sam fumbled through an explanation. "People say couple to refer to two people when they're... intimately involved."

"Yes," Lucifer replied. "I've been inside you, Sam."

Sam was by now quite sure his face was capable of catching on fire. Busying himself with unlocking the car doors, he avoided Lucifer's gaze as he quickly clarified. "I mean, romantically. Partners. Lovers."

Lucifer seemed to contemplate for a few moments, before nodding, and blissfully letting the matter drop.

They climbed into the car and Sam quickly turned out toward the highway, grateful for the rush of cool air from the open top to soothe his burning face. After a few minutes he'd calmed down, relaxing slightly and loosening his previously tight grip on the wheel as they drove on.

* * *

They were near the border when, well into the night, Sam deciding to find a motel. Lucifer gave no protest at the interruption, leaning with both arms folded on the top of the car door. He seemed to like the rush of air, though Sam had to admit he was now getting rather chilly. He bared it for Lucifer's sake, because the archangel genuinely seemed to find the sensation pleasant, and it was rare that Sam had ever seen him look so... content before.

The pulled up outside a small motel, parking the car and heading into the reception.

Sam was rather tired, and his mind was groggily sorting out the implications of how this would work. Lucifer didn't sleep. "Just the one bed," he told the woman behind the desk.

She blinked, before smiling. "Of course, sir."

Sam snapped out of his half-awake trance to realise what he had just implied, mentally groaning as he sensed Lucifer eying him curiously.

Thankfully, the archangel seem to brush his uncomfortableness off as simple tiredness, silently following him along to their allocated room.

It was nice enough. A large double bed with crimson sheets, white walls with matching red curtains, and a dark wooden floor with a large red rug surrounding the bed. There was a small white table with a chair either side under the window, and it was onto one of these that Lucifer collapsed, looking suddenly exhausted.

"Hey," Sam turned to him, dropping his duffel bag down onto the bed. "You alright?"

Lucifer groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose, before opening his eyes and looking up at Sam. "Slow recovery," he muttered. "I'll be fine."

Sam frowned, forehead creasing with worry. He glanced down at the bed, then back to Lucifer. "You should probably lie down," he said cautiously.

Lucifer's gaze slid over to him. "You need that to sleep," he said.

Sam shrugged, ignoring his heart thudding in his chest as he tried not to make it sound like a big deal. "It's big enough for both of us."

Lucifer eyed the bed thoughtfully, before giving a short nod and pushing himself up from the chair.

Sam smiled, attempting to stop his hands from shaking as he sat on the edge of the mattress and began unlacing his boots. He unbuttoned his shirt, unbuckled his belt, and stripped of everything but his boxers and t-shirt. Debating with himself that it was cold (and that too much skin on show was an issue), Sam pulled on a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms and turned to climb into bed, only then spotting Lucifer sat on the other side of the bed, still fully dressed.

"You can't go to sleep like that," Sam said. "Take your jacket and shoes off." He paused. "And the jeans, you can't sleep in jeans."

Lucifer looked over at him, then down at himself, before slowly unzipping his jacket. He draped it over the back of a chair, along with the grey hoodie, toeing off his shoes, before unbuckling his belt.

Sam looked purposefully away, pretending to be busy with adjusting the bed covers. He scrambled under the duvet, staring fixedly up at the ceiling as Lucifer, now clad in just a white t-shirt and boxers, slid into the bed beside him. Sam quickly turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness and turning his back to Lucifer, because even in the dark the angel's sharp eyes could likely still make out his blush.


	5. Spectrum

Sam woke up with his face pressed against something ticklish and blond, his arm draped over something that rose and fell slightly as if breathing, and a throbbing, warm sensation in his groin that had him quickly snapping awake and scrambling back on the bed.

Fortunately, Lucifer just shifted slightly but didn't wake, lying on his back, turned slightly to the side, toward where Sam had been.

Sam sighed, breath coming out in a little shaky whimper. He glanced down, noting that, yes, the thick outline of his cock could be seen very obviously through the fabric of his pants, and that were Lucifer to wake now, it would be very awkward.

Biting his bottom lip, Sam contemplated his options. Subconsciously, his gaze strayed back to Lucifer, studying the subtle but thick muscles of his bare arms, the ruffled blonde hair looking so much like a halo in the early morning light filtering in from behind the thin motel rooms curtains, and the somehow sensuous strip of flesh just visible between the waistband of his boxers and the hem of his shirt. Oh God, why had did the duvet have to have fallen so low as to let him see that?

Turning sharply on his heel, Sam slipped into the bathroom and firmly locked the door. Not that would keep an archangel out, but hopefully it would incline Lucifer to respect his privacy. Switching on the shower, Sam pulled his shirt over his head in a swift motion, placing it aside on the counter beside the sink. Hooking his thumbs under the waistband, he shuffled out of his tracksuit bottom, drawing in a sharp breath as the fabric brushed over his erection as it was pushed down. He quickly removed his boxers too, brushing his fingertips over his arousal, feeling the dampness already on the head as he ran his thumb over the slit.

Wasting no more time, he climbed into the shower, shaking his hair back from his face as the spray of water instantly soaked him. Curling his fingers around himself, he began slow, caressing strokes over his length, letting his head fall back as the heat coiled low in his stomach.

The recent intimacy, the closeness with the one being he'd been utterly enthralled with for so long now, the mere memories of the past couple of days were enough to make this easy. And he'd been dreaming about something, hadn't he? Something with he and Lucifer and not many clothes involved. His hips were writhing and twitching uncontrollably toward his touch, cock aching in his hand, when the door handle turned and Sam's heart nearly stopped.

Of course, the lock prevented the door from opening. So instead there came a call through the door, familiar and painfully husky in its lingering tiredness. "Sam?"

Biting hard on his bottom lip, Sam gripped his hand tight around the base of his cock to control himself. "I'm just in the shower." A slight waver to his voice. Hopefully Lucifer couldn't tell over the sound of the water.

"Are you alright, Sam?"

"Fine." He swallowed. "_Fine_. I'll be out in a minute."

Lucifer was silent in apparent contemplation for a few moments, before- finally- he responded with an airy "okay."

Sam heard him step away from the door and pushed his hand slowly up his length, back down to the base, and up again as his hips trembled and the orgasm spilled from him. He quickly slapped his other hand over his mouth, desperately suppressing every instinct telling him to cry out, as the last spurts of cum coated his fingertips, before being quickly washed away by the flow of water.

Groaning softly, Sam let his hand fall away from his mouth, head dropping down as the water pattered soothingly against the nape of his neck. His hands were still shaking. _God,_ the proximity, knowing Lucifer had been so close to catching him like that, it shouldn't have been a thrill. Really, it shouldn't have, but his heart was still hammering in his chest.

Turning the shower temperature a little cooler in hopes of shocking himself into some sort of state of composure, Sam finished washing himself, before cutting off the water and stepping out into the bathroom.

He rubbed a towel over himself. Surprisingly clean and fluffy for a motel, where cheap and scratchy was usually the standard. He was always far too tall to be wrapped up in any towel, so he dried himself in parts, scrubbing his hair, and under his arms, and between his legs, gently over his now flaccid cock. Once dry enough, he put his boxers back on, though he would find a fresh pair from his luggage. He picked up his t-shirt to head back into the main room, pausing as he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

The mirror sat above the sink so he could only see himself waist up, but he supposed, he didn't look entirely awful. He wondered what Lucifer saw, what Lucifer thought. He knew the demon blood he'd been fed as a child had given him strength, aiding his unusual height, and goodness only knew what else. But he liked to keep himself in good shape, too. What _did_ Lucifer think of him? Physically? A good specimen for a vessel? Was that all? Did Lucifer consider his form attractive? Nick was already certainly not an eyesore to look at, and not that he'd ever bring it up around Lucifer, but there were notions of vanity associated with the devil. Sam- feeling rather like a silly, preening schoolgirl- blindly hoped he met those standards.

Sighing, he draped his shirt over one shoulder and unlocked the door.

Lucifer was fully dressed, minus the jacket. He was sat at the small table, flicking through one of Sam's mythology books that he had apparently plucked from his luggage. "This is largely inaccurate."

Sam gave a small smile, heading over to his duffel bag. "Yeah, but there's useful bits too. We kind of have to siphon through and find the good parts."

He found fresh boxers and socks, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a button-up shirt in red and white plaid. Sitting down on the edge of the bed with his back to Lucifer, he glanced over his shoulder to see the archangel watching him out of the corner of his eyes. Trying not make too big a deal out of it, he shuffled out of his old boxers and swiftly pulled on the new pair. When he stood up and turned round, Lucifer was still watching.

"Why do you have a cut on your left shoulder?" Lucifer asked.

Sam blinked, glancing down and to the side at the wound. "Oh. Er, werewolf hunt. It's getting better." He tried to ignore the leaden feeling in his gut. So Lucifer had only been looking at his injury? Not... at him.

"Does it hurt?" Lucifer asked.

Sam shrugged. "It's a bit sore sometimes. No big deal."

Closing the book and placing it down on the table, Lucifer beckoned for Sam to come over to him.

More out of curiosity than anything, Sam obeyed, watching curiously as Lucifer laid one hand over the wound. There was a small rushing noise, and Lucifer took his hand away, leaving nothing but unblemished skin.

"Wow," Sam said, eyeing the area. "Thanks." He turned to look back at Lucifer, stopping short as he noticed the look of discomfort on the archangel's features. "You okay?"

Lucifer nodded, though he was frowning slightly. "Things are just... more difficult with so much of my grace missing. It's nothing, Sam. We should get going."

Sam nodded, blushing slightly as he realised he was only still in his boxers. He quickly headed back across the room to get dressed, fastening the last few buttons of his shirt and lacing his boots as Lucifer stood and shrugged on his jacket.

"Where'd you get those clothes anyway?" Sam asked, hauling his duffel bag up his shoulder.

"I took them from a shop," Lucifer responded.

"How'd you pay?" Sam paused, before sighing in realisation. "Lucifer, you shouldn't steal stuff." Well, in comparison it was hardly the devil's worst sin, but still...

Lucifer eyed him out the corner of his eyes. "You were willing to steal a car," he pointed out. "We technically still did steal a car."

Sam blushed slightly. "Well, we really needed a car. I've only ever stolen stuff if it's really necessary." They walked by the door of the reception, slotting the room key in through the letter box.

"Well Nick's old clothes were ruined. It _was_ necessary."

Sam sighed, turning towards the car. "Well no more, okay? I'll buy you some more clothes." He unlocked the boot and tossed his bag inside.

"I don't need clothes, Sam. Angels aren't so disgusting as to produce sweat and whatever else you-"

"Alright," Sam cut him off with a sigh. "I only offered to buy you clothes. No need to insult my entire species." He dropped down into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut. Coiling his fingers around the slim steering wheel, he paused, staring contemplatively forward as Lucifer slid into the seat beside him. "I feel bad not hunting," he said suddenly.

Lucifer turned his head to look at him. He regarded Sam silently for a few moments, before finally speaking up in a quiet tone. "You don't always have to be the hero, Sam."

"I know," Sam muttered. "But hunting, at least it makes me feel... useful."

"You are always useful, Sam."

The corner of Sam's lips twitched into a small smile. He shook his head slightly twisting the key and starting the engine. "Even so, I've been avoiding newspapers. I'd feel bad if I saw a potential case and didn't follow it up."

"I won't stop you, Sam."

Sam blinked at him in surprise. "You don't mind?"

Lucifer shrugged. "My grace isn't going to run away. We're finding it, not chasing it. I'm patient, Sam. I can wait."

"Oh. Okay, well, thanks, I guess." He shifted the car into gear and turned out onto the road once more. Sam hadn't had breakfast yet, but he was happy to drive for a while before stopping. He'd flick through the paper at whatever diner they stopped at to see if there were any likely cases nearby. It would be strange, hunting without Dean, but it was hardly something he hadn't done before. He glanced at Lucifer. What would the archangel do while he was gone? Could he perhaps take Lucifer with him?

They'd been on the road twenty minutes when he posed the question. "Do you want to come hunting with me?"

Lucifer looked up at him questioningly from where he'd been experimenting with the air conditioning controls. Lucifer apparently had an inclination for pressing buttons. "How do you mean?" he asked.

Sam shrugged, eyes on the road. "Just come help me out. Hunt with me." He smiled. "An archangel would make a heck of a good hunting companion."

Lucifer seemed to consider it, before giving a noncommittal twitch of the shoulders. "I'll keep you safe wherever you go, Sam. If you wish for me to come, of course I will."

Having exhausted the range of controls on the dashboard, Lucifer began prodding at the radio. The third button he tried turned it on, and Sam had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the mildly stunned look Lucifer gave the device as music began blaring out. Worse still, it was some rhythm-heavy techno song, something likely on the charts right now that Dean would pull a pained facial expression at.

"You can change the station," Sam explained.

"Station?"

Sam smiled. "Radio station," he clarified. "Each one plays different stuff. See the buttons with the little arrows on, pointing each way? Press either of those and you can go through the stations."

Lucifer was apparently curious enough to do as told. He tapped the button and watched with apparent rapt fascination as the numbers flickered on the small screen, searching for a new signal. It soon caught one and an energetic jazz station blared out. Lucifer continued channel surfing until he paused upon finding the melody of The Samples' _'Could It Be Another Change'_. Something about the song seemed to entrance Lucifer, and he simply stared down at the radio as it played. It was a little distorted by the rushing sounds of the traffic through the open car roof, but Lucifer could likely make it out perfectly. Angelic hearing.

Sam smiled as on the next chorus he could hear Lucifer humming along to the song. "I didn't know you liked music."

Lucifer glanced up at him. "Of course I like music, Sam," he said as if it were as obvious as that the sky were blue.

Sam's expression must have shown he honestly didn't understand the significance, and Lucifer sighed.

"I am..." He paused, seemed to frown slightly before continuing. "I was the Angel of Music."

Sam glanced over in surprise. "Angel of Music? Wow. I didn't know that."

"Not many do," Lucifer muttered, clearly displeased at the concept. "It's written everywhere about the choirs of Heaven, the harps, the singing prayers. Who do you think sung them first? Who do you think stood before God and sung them in praise of him?"

The daunting significance of the concept honestly made Sam feel a little lightheaded. He was sure he must have paled slightly as he slowly nodded. "I guess I never thought about where it all came from."

"From me," Lucifer declared firmly, turning his head away.

"Okay," Sam breathed, voice soft. No matter what else, he couldn't help but feel Lucifer had at least always deserved fair judgment. And surely rightful credit was only fair. He wished, vaguely and hopefully, that maybe other people could learn these little things Lucifer confided in him, and they'd be a bit more willing to look at him as more than just 'The Devil'.

* * *

They made it to the outskirts of Salt Lake City in Utah by the time they stopped, more for lunch now than breakfast.

Sam had eaten, while Lucifer, surprisingly, had requested more coffee, much to Sam's amusement. Scanning the newspaper, Sam had picked out a strange case of a cheery local churchwoman attacking two men during a sermon, a sure case of demon possession. He informed Lucifer, who didn't seem opposed to chasing the lead, so after breakfast/lunch they booked into a nearby motel.

"So," Sam said, once they had checked in. "You really up for coming with me on a hunt?"

Lucifer shrugged. "It matters little either way to me, Sam. But I would rather have you in my presence."

Sam fought not to blush at that, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Right. Okay. Erm, you're gonna need to get suited up."

Lucifer frowned. "What?"

"To get information," Sam explained. "We'll need to pose as some kind of authority figure. FBI agent usually does the trick. I can make you a fake ID pretty easy, but you need a suit. Something smart, you know."

Lucifer huffed slightly, but shrugged again. "If you insist, Sam."

They headed out to a local store. Affordable suits, but smart enough to pass for FBI. Sam grabbed the neck of Lucifer's shirt, pulling up the label to check the size. He wandered the aisles picking out a jacket and trousers while Lucifer trailed after him.

"You need to try these on," Sam said, picking up a plain white shirt and black tie.

Lucifer frowned. "Try them on? Here?"

Sam bit back a smile, pointing to the changing rooms. "In there."

Lucifer eyed the corridor leading to the changing rooms with clear distaste, until Sam sighed and began pushing him toward the entrance. There was, fortunately, no queue as it was just approaching one in the afternoon on a weekday.

"Go in there and see if they fit," Sam said, gesturing to one of the cubicles. It was a small, squarish space with a mirror on each of the three walls, and a pinewood door. "I'll be waiting out here."

"Why?" Lucifer asked.

Sam blinked. "What?"

"Why out here? Why aren't you coming in?"

Sam could feel the flush creeping up his neck. "Because... Because they're only for one person at a time. Now hurry up."

Lucifer muttered something distasteful about stupid human rules, but grabbed the clothes and disappeared into the cubicle nonetheless.

Sam sighed, leaning against the wall outside and vaguely wondering what his life had become that he was stood outside a changing room waiting for the devil to try clothes on.

A few minutes passed before Lucifer yanked the door open again and stepped out, tugging at the cuffs of the blazer with a look of vague displeasure. The suit fit fine, and Lucifer had put it on in complete proper fashion, shirt tucked in and tie neatly done.

"Looks good," Sam said. _Very good_, he thought.

Lucifer finally looked up at him, clearly frowning. "It's too dark for a suit."

Sam blinked, forehead creasing in obvious confusion. "Dark?" he questioned.

"The colour," Lucifer responded as it were an obvious problem, holding one sleeve out and gesturing to the black fabric. "I'm an archangel, Sam."

Sam continued to look blank, and Lucifer, finally seeming to catch on that Sam truly didn't get what he was saying, sighed.

"Lower-ranking angels. Foot soldiers and such. All angels wear suits officially, but the lower ranks wear dark colours. They _are_ darker. Think of the hierarchy of angels like the spectrum of light. The lighter angels are stronger. All angels are bright, but some more so than others, and the angels- as best I can explain to you in a way your human mind can comprehend- are dressed to reflect this."

"Oh," Sam said, unsure how else to respond. "I didn't know that. Wow." Here he was, still in some random downtown clothes shop, learning about the secrets of the system of Heaven.

Lucifer, however, was suddenly fixated on something to his right. He turned suddenly, heading quickly over to a neat set of racks displaying matching suit blazers and bottoms. All in white.

Sam groaned. "Lucifer, no," he said.

Lucifer looked up at him with a frown. "Why not?"

"FBI agents don't wear white suits," Sam said.

"Why not?" Lucifer asked again.

Sam sighed. "Because... They just don't, okay? Wear that and everyone'll know we're fake. The last thing we want to do is draw attention to ourselves."

If Sam hadn't known better, he would have described Lucifer's current expression as pouting.

"I'm not wearing a black suit," he said firmly.

Sam sighed. "Okay. But grey or something. A coloured tie, anything you like. Just not white."

Lucifer gave the white suit a rather mournful look.

Sam, now standing beside him, checked the tag. It was just over one hundred dollars, but even a cheap suit was usually at least fifty. Sam had a bit of money saved (as he did try and save, unlike Dean who spent most of his on beers and other such things), from hustling pool and bar work he'd done. _And_ Lucifer had been rather well behaved since his breakout from Hell, though he occasionally made irritated comments towards the human race, and Sam saw him staring at humans with something close to disgust at times. He, at the very least, not harmed anyone so far.

"Okay, I'll buy you the suit." Seeing Lucifer's mouth begin to twitch into a grin, Sam quickly continued. "_With_ another one. And you have to wear the other one for hunting."

Lucifer frowned slightly, but eventually conceded with a nod. "Fine, but not this one."

"Okay, pick another one then."

Not long after, Lucifer had grudgingly selected a grey suit and red tie which Sam deemed acceptable. Sam pushed him back into the changing rooms to take off the plain black suit and try both the grey and white ones on.

They both fit, and Sam sighed in relief at finally being able to leave the store, only to stop short as Lucifer suddenly disappeared off down another aisle. "Where are you going? It's time to leave."

Lucifer ignored him, having disappeared into the _much_ more expensive, designer area of the store.

"Lucifer," Sam admonished, hurrying after him. "We can't afford these."

Without even looking at him, Lucifer clicked his fingers vaguely towards a man across the aisle, and a wad of money appeared in his hand.

"_Lucifer,_" Sam hissed. "I said no stealing."

Lucifer pressed the money into an objecting Sam's pocket. "He earned it through conning people, Sam. Selfish human. It's better off with us."

"But-"

"Put the white one back, Sam," Lucifer said, busy browsing the aisles. "I'm choosing another one. You can go pay for the others."

Sam, quite flustered, spluttered several protests, but seeing Lucifer would not be moved on this, he sighed and did as told.

He had just finished paying when Lucifer appeared at the checkout, cheerfully dumping a pile of clothing on the counter and paying for it with relish. Sam paled slightly as he saw not one but _two_ suits be neatly placed into designer bags.

"Okay, _enough_," Sam said when Lucifer finally rejoined him. "No more shopping. What do you need two for anyway?"

"One's for you," Lucifer responded, handing him one of the designer bags which Sam took, wide-eyed.

"I'm not wearing a white suit," he exclaimed.

"Well that would be rather a waste of the money you so care about," Lucifer replied, heading back over to the car.

"Where am I going to wear a white suit to?" Sam questioned. "In fact, where are _you_ going to wear a white suit to?" He hoped Lucifer wouldn't insist on wearing it everywhere. After all, they would look a little mismatched, him in his plaid shirt and jeans, and Lucifer in white, tailored finery.

Lucifer just smiled at him, head tilted slightly to the side, blue eyes practically shining. He reached up, gently tucking Sam's hair back behind his ear. "I was going to dress you in white," he said softly.

Sam blinked, confused, though somewhat focused on fighting the way his face was quickly beginning to burn. "What?"

"If you were my vessel. For the long-term. I was going to dress you in white, Sam. The purest white, because that's what you deserve."

Sam ducked his head, unable to meet the archangel's eyes. "All that's over, Lucifer."

If Lucifer disliked that comment, he didn't show it. "You still deserve to dress in finery, Sam. You should be shown off to the world."

Sam knew he was blushing now. Lucifer's touch had been so gentle, his words so enchanting, so kind. Sam was unused to such kind things being said to him. Maybe he was a fool. Maybe this was what they meant by the Devil's temptation. But whatever, Sam knew he was lost. If he'd doubted until then that he really loved Lucifer, he knew for sure now when he dared meet those blue eyes.

"Let me take you out," Lucifer said suddenly.

Sam blinked at him, wide-eyed. "What?"

"That's how humans do it, is it not? Show gratitude, or simply to give another person a good time. A nice night. If you won't accept the world from me, at least let me give you that, Sam. No diners or cheap motels."

_Like a date_. Except Lucifer didn't think of it like that, did he? There were perfectly platonic reasons people went for nights out. Lucifer was simply trying to be nice to him. Lucifer loved him, yes. As his vessel, as his other half, as the being made for him, and maybe even in some ways just as a person. But Sam, in his simple, uncontrollable mess of human emotions, couldn't help but want something more.

"Sure." He smiled, despite the sudden urge to cry. "That would be great."

Lucifer smiled, lips curling at the corner, the little folds of skin around his eyes crinkling. Utterly handsome, utterly charming. "I'm glad to hear that, Sam. But you have to wear the white suit."


	6. Class Issues

Sam insisted they follow up the case before spending time on any luxuries. It turned out to be rather simple, without any need for the FBI rigmarole, no suits required, white or otherwise.

Lucifer, obviously, could see demon's true faces, and instantly confirmed that the woman mentioned in the report, now held in custody- he could sense even from outside the building- had been being possessed, but was no longer.

They soon tracked down the demon in its new host and disposed of it. Lucifer assured Sam it was the only one in the area.

"You're sure? But what if Crowley, or Abaddon, or whoever it worked for sends more?"

Lucifer shook his head. "This was just a lone demon, Sam. Not all of them take sides. Those who do are usually just blindly following. Demons have no loyalty. Their favourite thing is destruction for the sake of it. This one was just here to cause chaos."

That done, it was not getting dark and definitely time for dinner. They returned to the hotel, and Lucifer beamingly presented him once more with the bag containing his new outfit.

Lucifer was stubborn, if nothing else, and Sam reluctantly took the outfit and slipped into the bathroom to change. There was a mirror in there, full-length on the back of the door, and he at least wanted to see how awful he looked. That way he could adamantly take it off and refuse to go anywhere, at least.

The suit was by far the finest thing he'd ever owned. The material was neatly pressed along the seams, pinched a little at the waist, the shoulders firm in their corners. He slipped into the trousers, finding them a perfect fit. He wondered how Lucifer had known his size. Perhaps some angelic instincts. Or perhaps that this had once, for a short while, been his body. The shirt was a slightly more creamy colour, but also fit like it had been made for him. The jacket fit slimly over the top. Lucifer had even picked up shoes for him at some point. Fine, slip-on, white shoes, far nicer than the lace-ups he usually wore with a suit.

Taking a deep breath, Sam finally turned to the mirror.

...It didn't look... too awful. White had always look moderately good on him, at least. The suit fit him well. He had to give Lucifer credit, he did have good taste. It was a nice outfit. Really, _really_ nice. Far too nice for someone like him.

Feeling entirely self-conscious, Sam stepped out of the bathroom. "I can't wear this," he said. "It's too..."

He trailed off, for a few moments only able to stare.

Lucifer had got changed, too, apparently. Sam had never seen this vessel properly dressed up. He had (with a vain, selfish pleasure) wondered if it was because Lucifer only cared about how he looked in Sam's body, but Nick certainly didn't scrub up badly either.

His hair was smoothed downwards, instead of sticking up in a messy disarray of spikes, but there was a careless looseness to it that still made it look vibrant. He, too, was wearing a white suit, though of a different style and cut. The trousers and blazer were more or less the same, but underneath was a neat little waistcoat and a silky tie.

"Wow," Sam muttered. "You look... good like that. It suits you." He looked like an angel.

Lucifer gave a slow shrug. "It is, what you would call, my natural dress."

Sam smiled, but it quickly faded as he looked down at himself. "I can't wear this," he said again.

Lucifer raised a curious eyebrow. "I have to disagree, Sammy. Why ever would you think that?"

Sam sighed. "This... This is a really nice outfit. Too nice for someone like me."

Lucifer frowned. "How do you mean?"

"Well... this is an outfit for someone... I don't know, someone... worthy of it. You know, some smart posh guy. Someone special. Not someone... like me."

For a few long moments, Lucifer just stared at him, eyes narrowed as if trying to figure something out. Eventually, he straightened up slightly. "You really still believe that, don't you?"

Sam said nothing, pursing his lips and looking down at the floor.

"After everything I told you. About how special you are, how gifted, how only you were my perfect vessel. My boy king. You still believe you're not valuable."

Sam turned his head away. He barely saw Lucifer move, but suddenly the archangel was stood in front of him, so close Sam could feel his icy breath on his face.

"_Sam_," Lucifer whispered, the word coming out as more of a sigh than anything. "Let me show you," he said. "Let me take you out in front of all these unworthy humans, and you will see how special you are. You need to stop being so concerned with the opinions of creatures so far below you."

Sam hunched his shoulders, gaze still downcast. "I look a fool like this."

"I don't deal with fools, Sam," Lucifer said. He offered his hand to Sam, and after only a few moments hesitation, Sam took it.

* * *

They drove into the centre of the city. Lucifer had somehow obtained more money, though he insisted it only came from "the worst kind of human", and Sam sighed, and let it go.

They passed several places, but Lucifer shook his head at all of them, only nodding when he spotted a luxurious building right in the heart of the city.

"That looks expensive," Sam said blandly.

Lucifer just smiled and told him to park up.

Sam sighed and did so, because Lucifer always seemed to get his own way regardless. And feeling rather very self conscious, he stepped out of the car in his trim white suit.

There were many people dressed as flamboyantly inside, all in suits and posh dresses. The place was luxurious, to say the least; table cloths, and candles, and chandeliers. God, it was practically The Ritz. Swallowing his nervousness, Sam quickly moved to speak to the server who greeted them, as letting Lucifer interact with humans was never a good idea. They were taken to a table in a back corner, cosy and pleasantly lit with warm lighting.

"You choose," Lucifer said, immediately closing his menu and placing it down on the table beside the quaint little crimson candle burning there.

Nodding shortly, Sam looked down at the menu, eyes widening at the prices. They all seemed to be in double figures. He glanced back up at Lucifer. "Er, how much money do we have?"

"Plenty, Sammy. There's certainly no lack of corrupt humans to take it from."

Biting his bottom lip, Sam nodded and turned his attention back to the menu. He presumed Lucifer was telling him to choose as he didn't know much of human food, so Sam wanted to make certain he chose something nice.

"Do you like steak?" Sam asked. Steak was supposed to always be considered a fine meal, right? Not that he'd eaten it very often.

Lucifer shrugged.

Sam turned his attention to the wine list. He'd never had to look at a wine list before in his life. Bobby, strangely, had known quite a bit about wines, though he only ever seemed to drink Whiskey. Sam recognised one name and decided to go for that.

"A bottle of Merlot, and two fillet steaks, medium-rare," Sam told the waiter, who nodded politely, and took their menus to give them more table space. As the smartly-dressed man walked off, Sam sighed. "This is... so posh. I've never done anything posh."

"You deserve finery, Sam," Lucifer said softly. There was something so earnest in his tone, Sam found a smile creeping onto his face. "What did you order?" He asked.

"Steaks. Meat, you know. Kind of the best way of cooking meat. And wine. A fancy place like this, I wouldn't feel right drinking beer."

"I trust your judgement, Sam." Lucifer languidly turned his head to the side, apparently studying the other diners.

Sam followed his gaze. He wondered what Lucifer thought, seeing all this. The restaurant, with all its draperies and shininess and decorations looked amazing to him, as well as the people in tailored suits and finely cut dresses accompanied by glinting jewellery. Did it strike Lucifer as at all pleasurable? Could seeing this fine end of humanity persuade Lucifer of anything at all? That humans were more than mindless, hairless apes causing destruction?

Eventually, Lucifer turned back to face him, expression rather neutral and not showing a hint of interest in anything around them.

The waiter returned, smartly presenting the bottle to them. "Would you like to try any beforehand?"

Unused to such formality, Sam merely smiled awkwardly. "I'm sure it's fine."

The waiter nodded stiffly, popping the cork and neatly pouring a little into both glasses, supporting the neck of the bottle with a cloth. He left the bottle on the table, nodded again, and took his leave after promising their food would be with them shortly.

Lucifer picked up the glass neatly by its stem, bringing it close to his face and hesitating only briefly before taking a small sip.

Sam watched the rather hypnotic flex of his throat as he swallowed. An expression of contemplation seemed to settle on Lucifer's face, before he placed the glass back down. "Acceptable," he admitted.

Sam took a drink of his own glass, mildly amazed at the rich, fruity flavour. God, maybe he should stop drinking such rubbish cheap alcohol all the time.

Savouring the taste as he swallowed, Sam took another moment to study his surroundings. It was only then he noted a woman a few tables away eying him. Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise, biting back a laugh as she blushed upon seeing that he had noticed her. Wow, maybe he didn't look too ridiculous in this suit after all.

He supposed it wasn't as bad as his paranoid mind had thought. Sam took care of his appearance at least, especially his hair. Whether he could be called attractive or not, he didn't know, but he at least looked... presentable. Lucifer, on the other hand, whether it was that his vessel was handsome, or simply just something about his manner, seemed to radiate charm. Besides, when he thought about it, he supposed not many people would dare tease two guys who were both over six foot and dining in such an expensive place.

Glancing over at the woman again, it was only then Sam really registered that she was attractive. Very attractive. Long, wavy brown hair, a perfectly clear face, long lashes. And she was giving him a look that certainly suggested she wouldn't say no to anything he wanted.

And then he looked back to Lucifer, leaning languidly back in his chair and swilling a wine glass in one hand. It was like the rest of the world just faded around him. Who knew, with angel physics or whatever, maybe it did. But anything else in comparison to Lucifer just seemed obsolete, dull, meaningless. Usually Sam would have been flattered at an attractive woman paying any interest to him, and rarely had Sam ever looked at other men, but Lucifer was different. It was like an attraction to the soul. Whatever essence it was that made Lucifer what he was, Sam loved it. Loved it in the stormy brightness of his eyes, in the gentle touch of his fingers on the wineglass, like they were too delicate to even break the fragile stem, when really those hands could rip the world apart. Sam knew it was crazy, being in love with an archangel- with this archangel of all people- but it was like something more than the most addictive drug. Trying to stop loving Lucifer was like trying not to breathe.

Coiling his hand around his own glass, Sam drained it, slamming it back down on the table and quickly refilling it.

* * *

Maybe too much wine. When their food arrived, Sam ordered another bottle.

"You like that then, Sammy?" Lucifer asked with a smirk, eyeing the bottle with mild curiosity.

Sam blushed. God, he did that a lot around Lucifer, didn't he? "Yeah..." He tried to think of something else to say but his mind came up blank. He never could think of anything good to say around Lucifer. It was like his brain just turned to mush. And then there was Lucifer, so damn charming, so eloquent, so silver-tongued and good with words.

Suppressing a sigh, Sam tried a bit of his steak. It _was_ good. Very good. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything so good. Looking across the table, he found Lucifer even seemed rather impressed by the taste, neatly placing another small piece into his mouth. Lucifer's use of cutlery was perfect, of course. You would have thought he'd been brought up by some rich family who dined in places like this all the time. Maybe people did think that, that Lucifer was some rich person of importance. Well, he was, of course, but the people that gave them passing glances would hardly be able to comprehend the real explanation.

"It's good to see you enjoying something, Sam," Lucifer said, cutlery resting on his half-finished plate as he picked up the wine glass again. The liquid was a pure, deep red. It looked like demon blood.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asked mildly. God, his head was swimming. His words had sounded bitter and he wasn't sure why. He felt bitter. he felt worried, because surely this all had to be a joke, that he was sat here with the devil, who insisted on treating him.

Lucifer shrugged. "It's a less unpleasant experience, compared to some I've had on earth."

Sam snorted. Had Lucifer meant that to be funny? It sounded funny. Sam wanted to ask what the less pleasant experience were, but maybe Lucifer wouldn't want to say.

A slight frown creased Lucifer's face. "You seem troubled, Sam."

Sam smiled shakily, swallowing his mouthful before replying. "I don't need all this," he said. "I don't deserve it."

"Why are you so convinced of that?" Lucifer questioned. "I would say a break for you is long overdue."

Sam shook his head. "People talk about my life being hard, but it could be worse, you know?"

Lucifer studied him in silence for a few moments, never taking his eyes off of him as he brought the rim of the glass to his lips and took a small sip. "The boy king has grown up a pauper," he said eventually. "I wish it could have been otherwise, Sam. You still don't comprehend how valuable you are."

"For what?" Sam asked with slight bitterness. "For being your vessel?"

He was drunk and he knew it. He could hear his mouth saying stupid things, but he couldn't stop it. Didn't he always say stupid things anyway? What damn difference did it make?

"I've always told you, Sam, you're more than that to me."

He drained his glass once more. God, his head felt as if it were full of bubbles. "Yet not enough. I'm not..." He looked around again, at all the fancy people in their posh clothes, looking like they were born to be here. He suddenly felt so very out of place, like a scraggly orphan child dressing up in a costume. He looked at Lucifer, who not only looked worthy of this place, but as if he were too good for it.

He was crying now. That was stupid, wasn't it? So stupid. Lucifer had said he didn't deal with fools, and yet here he was making himself look completely and utterly like one. "I'm sorry."

He got to his feet, stumbling slightly. He made his way quickly toward the exit, sure he bumped into at least two people, but not caring. He thought he heard Lucifer call out after him, but then again, perhaps he'd just imagined it somewhere in his desperate state of wanting.

The cool air hit him like water had been splashed in his face. Yet it only made him feel tired and run down, doing nothing to straighten his muddled thoughts. He walked for a bit through the dark street, unsure where the hell he was even going, before he finally found a bench to sit on, a small quaint little thing alongside a winding path that split between the grass.

No longer caring how he looked in the white suit that was far too good for him, he sat there and cried.

What the hell was he doing? Not just here in this park, but here with Lucifer? Again he was letting the devil, of all people, walk free. No matter how much Lucifer was against the whole apocalypse thing, no matter he was currently somewhat lacking in his usual strength, this had to be a stupid decision, right? God, he was a fool. Maybe Lucifer was laughing at him and always had been. The only idiot dumb enough to be the devil's true vessel. The idea almost made him laugh. Yeah, that's what he was. The devil's fool. Didn't they say love made fools of people? Maybe this was Lucifer's plan all along, to get some sap to fall in love with him until he would do anything he was told. Well, here he was.

He barely heard the footsteps approach him. Lucifer walked so quietly, it was almost as if he were a ghost. Heck, maybe he was. Maybe this was another hallucination. Maybe he wasn't even here. Maybe Sam himself was sat in a mental hospital, finally having properly lost it.

Lucifer sat down beside him. "I have got to admit," he said. "If I've done something to offend you, I'm honestly not sure what it was."

Sam choked out a bitter laugh that stung his throat. "It's not you," he said. "It's me. Okay, well it is you. It's you and me. Both of us."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at him. "Sammy, I have to tell you that that made no sense whatsoever."

Sam sighed. "It's like... me. Compared to _you_." Slowly, Sam turned to look at him, studying the way the streetlamp above them made Lucifer's blondish hair shine. It looked like a halo. And the eyes again, just so blue. "Stop that," he mumbled.

"Stop what?" Lucifer questioned, clearly genuinely confused.

"_That_," Sam insisted, throwing his hands out slightly. "That. Everything. Stop being so..." Oh God, his head was swimming. How much had he drunk? Too much. Far too much. Idiot drunk human. Lucifer must have found him disgusting.

"Sam." Lucifer's voice was firm. With one strong hand he took the hunter's chin and turned Sam to face him. "Sam, listen to yourself. You're confused. You're upsetting yourself."

Sam shook his head, sniffing back tears though they were already falling.

"I think we should return to the hotel, Sam. Would you like me to take you back?"

"I... I don't know. Why would you want to? You can go, if you want, you know. You don't have to stay with me out of some kind of necessity. Because I'm your vessel, or something."

Lucifer frowned. "That's not why I'm here, Sam." He paused. "Do you want me to go, Sam? I don't think you do. I know you worry, Sam, about doing the right thing, about what Dean would think."

_Dean._ Oh God, if Dean could see him now. If Dean knew the thoughts he'd been harbouring for so long.

"Sam," Lucifer said again, voice soft as he once again nudged Sam's face to make the hunter look at him. "Forget everyone else. Do what you want."

Sam tried to blink away his tears, eyes shining with moisture. "I can't do what I want," he said. "I just can't."

"What do you want, Sam?" Lucifer asked.

Sam swallowed, staring fixedly into blue eyes. His vision had been blurring with the alcohol, but as always, Lucifer seemed clear. "You," he said. And as if he felt the world would collapse were he to wait a moment longer, he leant forward and pressed his lips firmly to Lucifer's.


	7. Hangover

Of course, carrying two hundred pounds of Sam Winchester was easy for him, weight wise. He could have picked up this entire human city if he had wanted. Of course, for the sake of size, he would have to revert to his true form to reasonably do that. Human bodies were so... small. As it was, that was the issue. Sam's weight wasn't the issue, it was more his height and limbs, and the fact that Lucifer's current vessel was a couple of inches shorter, and human arms weren't that useful for carrying other humans easily (generally, in Lucifer's opinion, humans weren't very useful for _anything_).

He could have just picked him up what they called 'bridal style', but Sam kept wriggling. So the best he could do was to throw Sam's arm over his shoulder and basically haul him along as Sam thankfully still possessed some kind of ability to walk.

He began to head back to the car, before realising he had no idea how to operate such a device. Thankfully, there was some big shiny building labelled as a hotel, and presuming that could not be that much different from the _m_otels they stayed in, Lucifer dragged Sam along into the entrance.

The woman behind the desk gave them a slightly startled look, but was soon satisfied with the sight of money. Most humans usually were. And before long, they were up in a room on the sixth floor, which Lucifer had to admit was distinctly nicer than the hotel.

He heaved Sam down onto the bed, watching the hunter's head flop slightly, before rolling to the side against the plush pillow as his eyes fell shut.

Lucifer took a moment to look over him and sighed.

He'd worried briefly that Sam was ill. Humans were so easily prone to sickness and harm, but he could sense nothing of the sort with the hunter, except some kind of chemical upset that seemed to come from the wine. Drunk, he recognised. That happened to humans, apparently. He'd tasted something of the strange alcohol substance in the drink, though he had to admit to quite liking the taste. He hadn't known how it might have effected Sam, but Sam would be fine.

...Sam had also kissed him. Lucifer knew kissing, of course. It wasn't a human thing, despite what humans might think. Animals did it, too. And angels. It was affection, and there were very few creatures that did not demonstrate affection. Usually, Lucifer would have been thoroughly pleased that Sam wanted to show affection to him. But Sam had been crying, and that did not sit well with Lucifer.

He hadn't at all minded Sam kissing him. In fact, he had liked it. It didn't last very long as Sam had almost passed out on him, and it had been then that he'd proceeded to drag the Winchester off to find somewhere comfortable to lie him down.

Dropping smoothly down into a crimson padded seat beside the bed, Lucifer rested his elbows on his knees as he watched over Sam. Threading his fingers together, he rested his chin on them.

When Sam woke, he would find out why he was upset.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was that his head hurt and that his mouth was horribly dry. The second, was that the sheets he was lying on were very rich and crimson and comfortable, and nothing at all like the scratchy motel blankets he was used to. The third thing he noticed, was that Lucifer was sat beside the bed.

Sam groaned at the bright glare of sunlight coming in from between the open curtain. Bringing an arm up to shield his eyes, he squeezed them shut for a few moments, before realising he didn't recognise the room he was in.

Sam's eyes flew open. Despite his aching head, he sat up, quickly examining his surrounding.

He was sat on the bed in what must have been at least a four star hotel room. The bed was king size with crimson covers, which matched the long curtains at the window. There was a flatscreen television on the wall. Opposite him was a dark wood desk, before which stood a padded red chair, similar to the one Lucifer currently occupied beside him.

"Where are we?" Sam asked blankly.

Lucifer shrugged. "It was near to that restaurant. You weren't able to walk very far so I booked us into the closest place."

"This place is really expensive."

Lucifer simply shrugged again.

Sighing, Sam rubbed his temples in hopes of easing the growing headache. God, wasn't there a glass of water available in this swanky place? His mouth was so dry.

"What's wrong?" Lucifer asked.

Sam was only able to groan out the word water.

Lucifer stood up, disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a small glass filled with delicious clear liquid.

Sam drank it down gratefully.

"Why were you sad?"

"What?" Sam blinked, turning to look at Lucifer and wondering if he was still slightly drunk.

"Last night," Lucifer explained patiently. "You were upset."

Sam tried to remember. He could recall nothing much of what happened. He remembered his self-consciousness, getting to the restaurant and ordering, then the wine being delivered to their table and not much after that. Why the hell had he drunk so much? Sure, he'd been anxious and slightly deliriously in love with Lucifer, but wasn't he always?

"I don't remember being upset," he replied eventually. "It was probably nothing. Alcohol makes people stupid sometimes. It's easy to get emotional while drunk."

Lucifer seemed to want to say something more, staring at him evenly through slightly narrowed eyes, before he appeared to drop the matter, standing straight and wandering over to the window.

Sam let his gaze study Lucifer's back. He was still in white. He'd taken off the jacket had rolled the sleeves of the shirt up, the waistcoat still hugging his figure perfectly, highlighting the firm edge and gentle curve of his sides. The fabric stretched a little against his broad shoulders as he folded his arms. His hair had fallen out of its neat smoothed style, sticking up at various angles once more.

Sam then looked down at himself. He was, of course, also still wearing the same clothes, though Lucifer had courteously taken his jacket off for him, along with his shoes. Sam popped open the top two buttons of his shirt to loosen it.

He didn't know what Lucifer was studying so intently out the window, but the silence was starting to become uncomfortable, for Sam at least. Figuring he might as well make the use of such a fancy television, he picked up the remote from the bedside table and switched it on.

He'd never been one to really sit staring at the screen for hours, so he searched for something that he could simply put on in the background to fill the silence, pleased when he discovered an array of music channels. Trying to ignore the pang of guilt as it reminded him of Dean, he settled on a rock music video.

Peter Gabriel's _'In Your Eyes'_ began to thrum from the TV speakers:

"_Love, I don't like to see so much pain_

_So much waster and this moment keeps slipping away_

_I get so tired of working for our survival_

_I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive..."_

Slowly, Lucifer turned his head towards the television, situated as it was in the corner to his left. Sam could only see his profile, but something seemed to soften slightly in his features as the song played.

Eventually, Lucifer turned back to face him. "There is a room downstairs where they serve food."

Sam nodded. "Thanks. This is... a really nice place." He glanced down at himself and frowned slightly. "Erm, I might go back to the motel and get my stuff. I'd prefer wearing something else."

"That suits you, Sam," Lucifer insisted.

Sam blushed slightly, but shook his head. "It's not exactly... appropriate everyday wear."

Lucifer frowned slightly, but nodded. "I'll get your things. You can wait here."

"Can you fly again?" Sam asked curiously. "Er, how is the whole lack of grace thing doing?" he added, feeling bad for not having asked sooner.

Lucifer shook his head. "I don't think the particular ability will return until I have my full grace back. But it will be easier for me to walk over than you."

"The car's still nearby right."

"I don't know how to operate such a thing, Sam."

"Oh, right."

"Walking won't take me long. I'll be back soon."

"Check us out," Sam said. "Just give the key back at the front desk."

Lucifer nodded, taking the key from Sam's outstretched hand. "I'll be back soon, Sam."

* * *

He took a cold shower (in the rather illustrious en suite bathroom) to try and clear his head. He still held a few inhibitions about letting Lucifer wander off alone, but he'd had to trust Lucifer's complete disregard for people who weren't him that he would simply completely ignore all other humans. Fortunately, Lucifer tended to view the rest of the human race as completely undeserving of his attention, much like how people didn't bother to pay much attention to the ants they passed.

Lucifer turned up just as he was drying off, and Sam returned to the main room to gratefully take his bag, digging out some clean- and rather less showy- clothes.

Lucifer, thankfully, had also changed back into the leather jacket and jeans he'd been wearing before. Though Sam had to admit, white was definitely a nice colour on him.

"We can go buy you some more clothes," Sam told him as they dressed. "Casual stuff. No more three piece suits in pure white."

Lucifer frowned slightly, but shrugged, quickly shifting to another subject. "So you're definitely okay now?"

Sam slowed down slightly in buttoning his shirt, but nodded. "Kind of hungover," he said, only managing a small huff of a laugh. "But yeah... I'm fine." What had happened last night that Lucifer was so concerned over? He must have made a right fool of himself. "Did I do anything else?" Sam asked. "Beside... er, being a bit emotional?"

Lucifer didn't respond, looking back to the television which was now playing the music video for some slow rock song Sam didn't recognise. "Are we moving on from here?" he asked instead.

"I guess," Sam replied, unable to help but note Lucifer's nonresponse. "As nice as this fancy hotel is."

"We can find another. You deserve luxury, Sam."

Shifting slightly on his feet, Sam shook his head. "I don't need luxury." He sighed. "I'm going to go downstairs and get some breakfast in this posh place. You coming?"

Lucifer nodded.

* * *

They are breakfast, before checking out of the hotel and returning back to the car to move on. So far they'd been heading more or less solely west, but Sam suggested turning north a little and Lucifer gave no protest.

They drove for a few hours into Wyoming, and Sam smiled as he spotted a sign pointing toward Devil's Tower, a geological monument.

Lucifer also noted the sign and frowned. "What tower?" he grumbled. "Do you humans just make these things up?"

"It's probably based on an old legend or something," Sam said with a shrug.

"What is it?"

"It's basically a big rock. Tourist attraction kind of thing, you know. People like to climb it. We can go see if you want."

Lucifer seemed curious enough to agree, so they drove on with the radio playing softly in the background over the rushing wind. The top of the car was still open as Lucifer seemed thoroughly opposed to shutting it, and as long as it didn't rain, Sam didn't mind.

They stopped once for lunch, and by late afternoon, going into evening, the monument came into sight, sticking up out the ground like a great misshapen mountain with a flat top.

"Certainly nothing to do with me," Lucifer declared, leaning slightly out the side of the car to look up at it.

Nonetheless, they drove on closer anyway, parking up and joining the many tourists milling around. Sam found an information board, pointing out to Lucifer that the name for it originally came from old tribes who attributed to it names to do with bears, but it was mistranslated that the names instead referred to some kind of ominous, bad figure, and it was then dubbed "devil's tower", though often now the apostrophe was left out, making it simply "devils tower".

"Idiot humans," Lucifer muttered.

"It's kind of cool through, right?" Sam said hopefully. "I mean, look at it, it's huge."

"It's tiny," Lucifer responded blandly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'd love to see the view from the top. I've never done rock climbing before." He glanced at Lucifer and instantly felt bad as the look on the archangel's face clearly displayed his thoughts. Usually, of course, Lucifer would have been able to fly them to the top. The reminder of his depleted powers clearly didn't sit well.

"We'll find your grace," Sam said softly. "Can you sense it anywhere near?"

Lucifer shook his head. He paused as a thought seemed to occur to him. "Wait here," he told Sam, turning on his heel and walking off without further explanation.

Sam blinked after him. He contemplated running after the archangel, but he wasn't sure Lucifer would appreciate it. Maybe he just wanted some alone time. For the moment, Sam busied himself with looking around the monument and few facilities on site. He was just contemplating entering the visitor centre to get something to drink when Lucifer returned.

"Where'd you go?" Sam asked.

Lucifer said nothing, suddenly grasping Sam's shoulder. There was a rush of air and Sam blinked, suddenly finding himself stood on top of the humungous rock.

For a few moments, Sam just stared around them stunned. There was no one else on the top (thankfully), though he'd seen several climbers making their way up amongst the crevices. "How'd you do that?" he finally managed to ask, turning back to Lucifer. He hadn't heard any flap of wings.

"Demon blood," Lucifer admitted, somewhat grudgingly. "Demons can teleport. It was easy enough to track one down nearby and kill it. Though I despise having to take aid from their powers."

"Oh... Right." Sam wondered vaguely if he would have ever been able to teleport with drinking enough demon blood, though Lucifer's own strength probably amplified it. He'd never thought before how Lucifer felt about consuming the blood, though he was aware Lucifer certainly didn't think much of his own creations. Lucifer saw them as simply examples to prove a point of the horrific basic and worst of human nature. Sam supposed it made sense that he disliked it for the necessity it was for strengthening his vessels. He didn't seem to need much of it right now, even with Nick, but Sam supposed having rebuilt the body personally, and with less of his grace, it was rather more compatible right now.

Lucifer had moved away from him, wandering over to the edge. The sky was just starting to darken, the sun still up but low in the air.

Sam could guess the park closed soon, at least for climbers. It was a pleasantly surreal thought, them being up here and no one knowing it.

"You like it?" Lucifer questioned, as Sam slowly came to stand beside him, though staying cautiously a little further back from the edge.

"It's amazing," Sam said earnestly. And it was. They could see for miles, the stretches of trees and rocky ground and hills seeming to go on forever. It seemed impossible that they'd even been in a modern city earlier that day.

Lucifer, too, was looking out at the landscape, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. He didn't avert his gaze when he spoke. "Do you remember?" he asked.

Sam blinked, forehead creasing as he studied the archangel questioningly. "Remember what?"

Lucifer was silent for a few moments before answering. It wasn't really hesitation, simply as if he were pacing Sam for his words. "When we were one," he said finally. "When you and I were complete together."

A leaden feeling dropped in Sam's gut, but it wasn't particularly unpleasant, more the kind of anxious excitement one felt before the big dip on a roller coaster. "Yeah," he whispered. "I remember."

He did. He tried not to. At least, he had for the those few years since he had lost Lucifer to the depths of the cage. But he remembered still. Or more so, he couldn't forget. How could he possibly forget the only time in his life he'd ever felt... not broken. Having Lucifer inside him was not like he had thought. It wasn't like Lucifer wore him like a glove, simply slotting into the space. Lucifer had become part of him, fused with him, filling every particle of his being. It was like he'd been water and Lucifer was the cold that hardened them into ice together. Two elements fusing. They'd melded. He'd felt the power in every cell of his body. It had been like lightning suddenly ran through his veins instead of blood, pulsing endlessly, like a constant high. From they moment they joined together, it was like he'd woken up properly for the first time, as if he'd spent every previous moment of his life half-conscious. In those moments, he'd not only known Lucifer fully in a way he couldn't even begin to describe, but he'd known himself wholly. Some realisation had awoken in him, giving him a sense of knowing, it spoke in more than words, and it said: _finally. Here you are. Here I am. This is how it should be. How it was always meant to be._

"Had we stayed together," Lucifer continued slowly. "Had I been able to keep you, I would have shown you the whole world like this. The whole planet would have been yours, Sam. It would have been the paradise it always should have been."

"But..." He was trying to stop his head from swimming from these words. "But didn't you... you know, make a point of... undoing that in the first place? I thought Heaven wanted paradise."

Lucifer made a slow derisive sound behind his teeth. "What Michael never understood was how similar the results of our ultimate desires were. Had our fight gone down, most of the humans would have died from being caught in the crossfire anyway. Michael believed by killing all the current evil of the demons, the human race could enter paradise purely. What I have always tried to explain to him is that humans are the evil. Demons would have come again from their worst desires. Humans can't handle paradise."

"What did _you_ want then?" Sam asked.

"Similarly, to cleanse the planet. But that would require all the humans to be got rid of and never come back. Humans have polluted and destroyed this place."

Sam wanted to ask what Lucifer thought he would do then, once all the humans had been got rid of, but he wasn't sure the archangel even thought about it. Maybe he didn't care. He remembered the years he'd spent with his father and Dean, chasing the creature that killed their mother. There had been a sense of confusion after Azazel was finally gone. If they hadn't had Dean's imminent demon deal to sort out, he wasn't sure he'd have known what to do next. It was strange, to spend so long chasing something that it consumed you, that after was just a strange concept that seemed almost impossible.

"It's not so bad, I think," Sam said cautiously. "The world as it is now, I mean."

Lucifer glanced over at him. The slight frown on his face indicated he clearly felt differently, but he said nothing to argue.

"Besides," Sam continued. "I don't need the whole planet."

Lucifer remained silent.

Sam wished he could say the right thing. Wished he could find some argument to convince Lucifer that he didn't need to hate these creatures. But he knew changing the devil's mind was near impossible.

"You may not know what you want until you finally have it," Lucifer said.

Sam contemplated that, biting his bottom lip before daring to voice his thoughts. "Maybe I could say the same to you."


	8. Worthy

"Are you sure we won't fall?"

"I wouldn't let that happen, Sam."

Even so, he still felt slightly at ease sitting on the edge of the rocky tower, legs dangling over the edge. He hadn't been concerned for Lucifer when the archangel had taken a seat on the edge, but when Lucifer had indicated for Sam to sit beside him, it had taken him several moments of steeling his nerves before he'd come anywhere close.

It was dark now, the sky overhead peppered with stars. There was a crisp chill in the air, but Sam found it pleasantly fresh.

Sighing, Sam looked down at the ground miles below. "Do you mind if we find another case? I feel bad still not hunting."

"Whatever you wish, Sam," Lucifer said. "Do you want to go back now?"

Sam shrugged. "It's late. We probably should. But... it's peaceful up here."

"Places without humans traditionally are."

"I'm a human," Sam pointed out.

"You're special."

Sam frowned slightly, brow creasing as he took a moment to truly think about that point. It had, of course, occurred to him before, but curiosity now got the better of him, as well as the cautiously growing confidence that Lucifer would not smite him for being too bold. "But really, I _am_ a human. Don't you... dislike that? I mean, that your vessel is human?"

Surprisingly, Lucifer shook his head.

"This may sound strange to you, Sam, but really, I don't actually dislike humans. Not in the way you imagine."

Sam's frown deepened. "Yeah, that kind of does sound strange. I thought that was your whole thing."

Lucifer shook his head. "There are many creatures in creation, Sam. The point is that none of them are as pure as angels are. You're all flawed, petty..." He paused briefly before continuing. "I don't mind other species. Many of them I find mildly fascinating. But I would not bow to any of them. My Father created it all, so He is the only thing worthy of praise for anything all his creations achieve."

"So what you're saying," Sam began slowly, "is that you don't just want to destroy humans for the sake of it. You just... Don't think you should have to bow to us?"

"Why should I?" Lucifer replied, a sudden firm note to his voice. "What was my Father thinking? Why should I serve a bunch of creatures so far below me?"

Sam honestly didn't know. He couldn't really argue, he supposed, that Lucifer was something far more... far greater than any person, but then again, who was he to try to know what God was thinking.

"Do you find me petty then?" Sam asked. There was no malice in his voice. He was honestly simple curious.

Slowly, Lucifer turned to face him. "No," he said. "You're human, Sam, yes. But you've always had a higher understanding, haven't you? You're not an ordinary human. Your race is an insignificant point. What you are at your core, that's what matters to me."

Sam felt rather humbled by that. Turning his gaze slowly down to his lap, he sighed. "I think you think too much of me."

"I think you don't think enough of yourself."

* * *

Lucifer- thankfully- had enough energy to teleport them back down again. They headed back to the car to find a motel.

"We're closing the top," Sam said. "It's cold now."

"No it's not," Lucifer objected, batting Sam's hand away the button that closed the roof.

"I'm cold," Sam insisted.

"I'm always cold," Lucifer bit back. "You'll get used to it."

Sam rolled his eyes and firmly pressed the button. "I drive, so my rules."

Lucifer tilted his head back, giving the roof a distinct glare as it unfolded and lay back into place.

"This vehicle is too small," Lucifer muttered as they headed back out onto the road.

Sam ignored him, turning on the radio, which seemed to distract Lucifer, at least.

They found a motel in the northern part of Wyoming and checked in for a couple of nights as Sam was determined to find a case to work.

Browsing the local paper at breakfast the next morning, sure enough, he came across a series of reports of local disappearances, all young girls of a similar age. It took twenty minutes of nagging and arguments before he persuaded Lucifer into the dark-coloured suit, sighing in relief when Lucifer was finally grudgingly fastening his tie.

"I need to make you an FBI badge," Sam said. He took out his phone and opened the camera app. "Stand against the wall there." It was a stroke of good fortune that the walls of this particular motel room were plain white.

"What are you doing?" Lucifer questioned, frowning suspiciously at the phone held out toward him.

"I need to take a picture," Sam replied.

"What picture? Why?"

Sam sighed. Lucifer was apparently distinctly paranoid about many things. "You'll see. Just look at the camera. Don't pout. Smile a bit."

Lucifer appeared less than enthusiastic, but managed to give the camera an acceptable look. He watched with interest as Sam hooked his laptop up to a small portable printer and took out a blank FBI badge.

"You need a fake name," Sam said.

"My name is Lucifer," Lucifer responded firmly.

Sam sighed again. "I can't just write 'Lucifer' on a federal agent badge. We're supposed to be undercover."

Sam's badge was lying on the table and Lucifer snatched it up. "Why does your badge not have your name on?"

"Because I don't want people to know who I am. Pretending to be an agent is a serious crime."

"Then why are we doing it?"

"Because more often than not it's the only way to get information. If an FBI agent asks you something, you kind of have to tell them." He picked up the photo as it printed off and picked up a pair of scissors to cut around it. "Come on, what name? I'll come up with one if you like."

"Can't you just put Nick's name on it?"

"No. You look like Nick, then people will track Nick down."

"They won't find Nick."

Sam resisted the urge to bang his head on the table. Lucifer was stubborn, if nothing else. "Pick a name or I will. I'll just put something like 'John Smith' if you're not fussed."

"I don't want some human name."

"Tell me one then," Sam said, only just managing to keep the frustration out of his tone.

Lucifer was silent for a few moments, before he finally responded. "Hêlêl."

Sam blinked in surprise. "Okay, that works, I guess. A little exotic. You need a surname, too."

"Morningstar."

"Hêlêl Morningstar," Sam repeated. "Huh, okay."

"It's still my name," Lucifer said.

"Really?" Sam questioned. "I'd heard of the Morningstar bit before, I think."

"Hêlêl is the hebrew equivalent. Lucifer, Hêlêl, Morningstar, they all essentially mean the same thing."

Sam nodded. "Wow, man of many titles, huh? Okay, er, you need to sign it. Just write the name basically."

Lucifer took the pen offered to him, scribbling the name in a slanted but neat script, accenting both e's in Hêlêl.

Sam stuck the photo on and slotted the ID into a slim black wallet. He held it up and inspected it, handing it over to Lucifer once satisfied it appeared legitimate. "Okay, just follow my lead, okay?"

Lucifer had this naturally dignified look of authority. Sam had noticed it before. There was no doubt in his posture; straight-backed, easy movements. In Nick's form he was also nearly six-foot-two and looked like the type that could knock you out in a bar fight, though he appeared a fair bit older than Sam, it just gave him this look of wise experience. In short, he didn't appear as the type of person people dared say no to.

The police officer who greeted them at the local station gave no hint of reluctance when they asked to go through, showing their badges as Sam asked to see the evidence for the relevant case.

Lucifer didn't miss a beat. He showed his badge properly when Sam did. _Not_ upside down like Castiel had famously managed to do. He looked round the police station with vague interest as they were shown through to view a grainy piece of security footage of what was supposedly the last abduction.

"We're pretty sure that's the missing girl," the officer was saying as he pointed to the footage. "You see the guy grab her there, but there's a slight gap between this camera and the next." He hit a button and a new piece of footage from just around the corner of the previous alley appeared. "This is the only way out, but they don't show up on this camera. We don't know how they could have slipped by."

"Isn't that the girl there, though?" Sam questioned, pointing to a figure of similar build who was also being hauled along by another man.

"Yeah, but that ain't the same guy," the officer said. "Look at him, even on this footage you can tell it's a different bloke."

It did indeed seem to be. The first man had been rather tall and slim, wearing a hoodie, and the second man was far more squat and wore a long coat and slacks. However, Sam could see a slightly unnatural glint to his eyes when he looked back over his shoulder. The officer, of course, had presumed it was simply some kind of light glare.

"A shapeshifter, definitely," Sam said, as soon as the officer was out of earshot.

Sam requested all the footage of the second man, though the officer continued to insist it was a different person. They could track the man all the way to a private office building on the outskirts of town.

Stopping back at the motel to collect his knife and gun loaded with silver bullets, they made their way to the building.

Sam led the way as they crept round to the back entrance. It was by now getting dark and the streets were thankfully rather quiet. Sam told Lucifer to keep watch for anyone, while he knelt down to pick the lock of the door.

He had it open in less than a minute, giving the door a gentle push to reveal a gloomy, unlit corridor. Glancing briefly at Lucifer, Sam began to make his way down, taking his gun from his belt and holding it out before him. He wasn't sure whether to be exasperated or amused at the extreme casualness with which Lucifer followed him, as if there were no danger to the situation whatsoever.

The place was in rather a state of disarray. Debris crunched underfoot as he walked, aware of Lucifer treading silently behind him. Gun first, he snuck around each corner, up one flight of stairs, until he spotted a door firmly padlocked shut up ahead. It seemed to match up with where he'd spotted one room from the outside had blacked out windows.

It took longer to pick this lock, but finally it popped open and Sam pushed the door back.

What was inside rather sickened him. There were two of the missing girls lying dead on the floor. Their clothes were ripped and Sam didn't want to imagine what had been done to them before their deaths. Many shape-shifters just played dumb tricks with their powers, but there were some like this who used them to get away with evil things, knowing there was no way any normal law enforcement could track them down.

So distracted his thoughts of disgust on the sight before him, Sam only had time to register the crack of a gun firing before it was too late. Something sharp and painful pierced his upper arm and grasping at the profusely bleeding wound, Sam stumbled back and collapsed onto the floor.

"Bloody hunters," a voice growled.

Sam looked up to see a pale, brown haired man, sure enough with gun in hand, across the room glaring down at him. Grinning, the man aimed his gun at Lucifer next. Unfortunately for him, the man had clearly presumed Sam's companion was merely another hunter come brandishing only weapons and hunting skills.

Sam didn't even see Lucifer move. Neither did the shifter, who suddenly stumbled back, wide-eyed as the devil loomed over him. Lucifer's hand closed on his neck like a vice, fingers digging right into his flesh, pushing past skin and muscles like they were made of soft putty. He ripped a chunk of his neck right out, and the shifter fell back onto the floor. But, to his horror, as Sam looked at him, he saw he was still alive.

Lucifer stood over him, placing one foot on his chest and firmly pushing down so the man choked and writhed, blood spilling from his neck wound like a fountain. Sam heard the very distinct sound of his ribs cracking, and with a final series of horrid, shuddering chokes, the shifter fell dead.

Kneeling on the floor with one hand clutching his arm, Sam could only stare wide-eyed.

There was blood coating Lucifer's hand as the archangel came and knelt down beside him. His expression was all but nonchalant, completely unfazed by what had just happened, as if he hadn't just ripped a man to shreds. "Let me see, Sam," he muttered, moving the hunter's hands away to inspect the wound.

Lucifer hovered his hand over the wound, and the bullet which had imbedded itself in his arm shot out and clattered onto the floor. Lucifer paid it no attention, forehead creasing slightly as he slowly healed the wound over, the skin twisting in on itself and sealing.

Once done, Lucifer swayed slightly, as if dizzy. He turned his head away sharply, a frustrated growl escaping him. "This is ridiculous," he muttered. "I want my grace back." he glanced up at Sam, who was merely staring at him, wide-eyed. "I should have sensed that thing was there. I should have protected you."

Sam blinked, eyes softening slightly. "What?"

Lucifer sighed, breath coming out in an angry hiss between his teeth. He was showing more emotion now than he had over killing the creature, as if it was this that really mattered to him. "If I had been at full strength, you wouldn't have got hurt. I'm sorry, Sam."

"It's not your fault," Sam said slowly. He glanced over at the body of the shifter.

Lucifer followed his gaze, noting the look of unease on Sam's face. Slowly, it seemed to dawn on him why Sam felt that way. "I scared you." It was more of a statement than a question.

Sam looked away.

It confirmed what Lucifer had wanted to know all the same. He frowned. The look showed displeasure, but not anger. "I didn't intend to scare you, Sam. I was merely angry. That thing disgusts me."

Hesitantly, Sam's gaze slid back over to him. "You could have killed it much easier than that. Even now." He sighed. Despite his words, his voice was soft. "You don't always have to go to extremes, Lucifer."

Something of a bitter smile touched Lucifer's face. "But perhaps I do, Sam. It's expected of me, after all. The devil isn't supposed to be meek and subtle. Constant rage and anger all the time, that's the standard."

"Why?" Sam questioned, genuinely curious.

The fixed, unhappy smile on Lucifer's face seemed to harden. For a few long moments, he just stared, almost glaring, at some vague point over Sam's shoulder. "Needless to say," he began at last, "rebelling in Heaven is not a small issue. I had no choice but to be utterly resolute in what I did. I had to make a point, Sam. Minor whining never would have done it. And since then, I have to continue kicking up a fuss. There was never any other option but to go to the utter extremes."

Sam thought the words over. "If you'd showed any doubt, you wouldn't have been taken seriously."

Slowly, Lucifer nodded. "If you're going to rebel, you have to put on a bit of a show, Sam. For millennia, I've thrived on only three things: my power, my resolution that I was right, and..." He paused briefly, slowly lifting his gaze and meeting Sam's eyes. "And you."

Sam felt himself blush, but forced a sense of composure. He wanted to know more from this conversation. "Did you ever think about it?" he asked. "Changing your mind?"

Lucifer looked away again. He remained silent for so long that Sam genuinely thought he wasn't going to answer, and was about to speak again, when Lucifer finally responded. "It wasn't an option," he said. "You can't undo rebellion. Especially in Heaven. So I've had no choice but to remain fixed in my proving a point ever since." He paused again, seeming to swallow down some old, bitter anger. "Some of them laughed at me, you know." His voice was barely audible, hardly more than a whisper. "My arguments, the stories of my claims that perhaps Father had this one thing wrong, it all spread through Heaven in gossip and whispers. So many of them merely brushed me off as a fool. They said I'd gone mad."

"But now they fear you," Sam said softly.

"Better that than they laugh at me," Lucifer hissed.

Before he could stop himself, Sam found he was raising his hand and gently placing it on the side of Lucifer's face. The archangel looked at him curiously, but gave no protest. "I wouldn't laugh at you, Lucifer. I understand. I do. But I don't want to fear you either."

"I said, I wouldn't want you to, Sam. You're perhaps the only one I can rely on to truly see my point without it having to be constantly demonstrated."

Sam nodded. "Doesn't mean I completely agree," he reminded him softly. "But I don't think you're a fool, either."

"And neither are you, Sam," Lucifer whispered. "You are so much smarter than most. I keep trying to tell you this."

Sam shrugged, hunching his shoulders. "I'm nothing special."

"But you _are_," Lucifer said firmly, grasping one of Sam's shoulder and forcing the hunter to look at him. "How many more times do I have to say it, Sam?"

They were still sat on the floor, Sam with his legs bent to the side, Lucifer kneeling over him. Sam felt Lucifer's breath tickle his forehead as he sighed, making his hair shift. "Why do you keep saying it? You've been in my damn head, Lucifer. You know all the worst things about me."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you miss everything I just said, Sam? You've seen my doubt. You know I'm not perhaps the perfect strong image they think I am. Do you think I would show that to anyone else? You think I would tell anyone else that?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't think any less of you. You know I don't. Lucifer, your flaws are-"

"Why I love you," Lucifer cut in.

Sam froze. He'd been about to say something of the same to Lucifer, though perhaps watered down. He couldn't confess how he really felt. He would have said 'admired', or 'respect', or something of that nature. And then Lucifer had cut in, and repeated back to him what he really wanted to say. What he had always wanted to say. And Lucifer was saying it _to_ him, as if he really deserved it. And they were kneeling on the dirty floor here, together, surrounded by death and destruction. "...What?"

"You think I don't love you," Lucifer stated more than asked. "Sam, of course, I love you."

Sam wanted to say something. Words were racing through his head but his body wasn't reacting to speak them. Certain he looked pathetically gormless, he just stared.

"You kissed me," Lucifer said.

"What?" Sam broke out of his trance, face flushing.

"When you were intoxicated," Lucifer explained. "I didn't think you remembered."

"Oh God," Sam cried, burying his head in his hands. "Lucifer, I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot."

"What are you sorry for?"

For... For... I don't know. Just making a constant fool of myself."

"Haven't I just said that I don't think you're a fool?"

Sam paused. Finally, he swallowed thickly, composing himself before continuing. "Okay. That's great of you. Really. But I should apologise for kissing you, still."

Lucifer sighed. "You don't listen at all, do you, Sam? You're so fixated in this assurance that you're worthless, someone telling you different falls completely on deaf ears." He coiled one hand around the back of Sam's head, fingers threading through his hair. "I've told you before, Sam. And I've had enough of this, of you looking a me like you think I'm playing some joke on you when I call you special. I don't lie. So believe me when I say I love you."

"But..." He was sure he was dreaming. He couldn't have heard right, could he? "I'm not worthy of that."

"You're my vessel, Sam. You were made for me."

"I know. But I'm such a let down. I-"

"I said that's enough of that, Sam."

"But-"

"Enough."

Any further argument Sam could have given was cut off, swallowed up into Lucifer's mouth where the archangel's lips were suddenly pressed against his.


	9. Love in All Forms

Kneeling on the floor, after having been shot, with a body of a shapeshifter lying a few feet away, was not how he'd pictured this moment. And he had pictured it, hadn't he? So many times.

Slowly, Lucifer pulled back from him, blue eyes staring down at him almost hungrily, his lips slightly parted. The light was dim in this horrid place, but the hints of shadow on Lucifer's face only made him look profound. Unable to help himself, Sam reached up, gently brushing his fingertips over the rough stubble on Lucifer's jaw. Then suddenly embarrassed, he buried his face in the crook of Lucifer's neck, squeezing his eyes shut, hands clinging to the fabric across Lucifer's back. He was holding on so tight it seemed he was afraid the archangel would disappear.

"Sam," Lucifer whispered, voice holding nothing but affection as he ran his fingers through the back of the hunter's hair. "How could you ever think I would reject you? We were made for one another, Sam. Quite literally."

Sam said nothing, just clinging all the tighter to him.

"Let's leave here, Sam. This place is disgusting."

He let Lucifer pull him to his feet, grinning shyly, before realising he was hadn't let go of the archangel's hand and pulling away with a blush.

Lucifer just smiled in apparent amusement, but as they slipped out of the room, he wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and pulled him close up against his side.

Sam's heart was racing. In utter ecstasy, he threaded his own arm around Lucifer's waist, not caring who saw them as they stepped out onto the street. He nuzzled into the archangel's neck, grinning widely and unable to stop. God, he felt drunk. It was like being high. He wanted to dance and scream, he wanted to shout it at everyone they passed: Lucifer loves me_. Lucifer loves me._

As they returned to the car, he was worried he wouldn't be able to drive, but some kind of autopilot mode had overtaken his body and he found himself turning the key to start the engine and manoeuvring out onto the road competently enough.

Lucifer was sat half facing him. He leant over and kissed his neck as they drove, pressing little pecks up to behind his ear.

Sam laughed. He felt giddy. At the same time there was an overwhelming urge to cry, perhaps from disbelief or just sheer joy. "If you always felt this way," he found himself saying with surprising calmness, "why didn't you make a move on me?"

Softly, kissing his cheek, he heard Lucifer sigh. "Sam, I love you in any and all ways you could imagine. But this kind of love is intimate. I did not want to make you feel uncomfortable. You know your consent in all things is important to me." He had his arm on the back of Sam's seat, fingers playing with his hair as it shifted in the wind from the open car roof. "I wanted you to come to me. Like before, you remember, when you came to say yes. I simply waited because I knew you would always come to me. I will always allow yours to be the first move to make, Sam."

Sam nodded. "I appreciate that. I really do."

Returning to the motel, he pulled Lucifer down onto the bed with him, giggling like a schoolgirl all the while. He shuffled up close to the archangel, beaming as Lucifer smiled straight back at him.

"It's good to see you happy, Sam," Lucifer said.

He was. He really, truly was. But so unused to even a hint of happiness, Sam's smile faded as nestled up close beside the archangel.

"What?" Lucifer asked softly, as attentive as ever to Sam's emotions.

Sam shrugged. "I just keep wondering what's going to go wrong."

Lucifer kissed his forehead, hardly drawing back after, lips just brushing Sam's skin as he spoke. "Nothing will go wrong, Sam. I won't allow that."

Sam shifted slightly in his arms with clear unease. "Lucifer?" he said eventually.

"Hm?"

"You're not planning to... hurt anyone, or unleash some demonic virus, or restart the apocalypse, or anything, right?"

Lucifer gave a slightly amused huff, breath tickling through Sam's hair. "Not right now, Sam. All that was for another time and place."

Sam bit his lip, nodding as he nestled closer. "Good. Because I don't want you to do any of that."

Lucifer said nothing, gently stroking Sam's hair as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. He rested his face against the silky strands, breathing in the lingering scent of Sam's conditioner.

"We'll find your grace," Sam said. "We won't stop until we do."

"It could take a while, Sam," Lucifer admitted. "This is proving to be rather more difficult than I thought."

Sam shrugged. "Well you've got me to help."

"And what now?" Lucifer asked softly.

Sam fell silent, contemplating for a few moments. There were many things stirring urges within him to do right now, some that made him blush, but honestly, he felt suddenly tired more than anything else. "Do you mind if we just lie here for a bit?"

Lucifer pulled him closer, kissing his forehead, which felt far more like a blessing than it should. "Whatever you wish, Sammy. I'll be right here."

* * *

He slept right through to the next morning. For a few moments upon waking, he was scared to open his eyes, worried that the wonderful feelings of love and acceptance had all been a dream, that there had never really been anyone who looked at him like he was something precious and perfect. But then he felt Lucifer's fingers gently cording through his hair, and he opened his eyes to find- as promised- the archangel still right beside him.

"We should move on," Sam mumbled after a few moments. "Keep traveling."

"To another less than pleasant motel?" Lucifer questioned dryly, picking at the scratchy sheets. "I wish you'd let me treat you how you deserve, Sam."

Sam shrugged. "I've told you, I don't need special treatment. Besides, they're only motels. I don't need luxury." He paused. "I always thought the only thing I'd really want to make nice is my own place one day... But I don't think that'll ever happen."

"Why not?"

Sam shifted his head on the pillow to look at him properly. "I've given up trying to be normal."

Lucifer shifted up onto one elbow, blond hair a messy mop of spikes sticking up at all angles. "Sam," he whispered, voice soft and heavy with affection as he gently ran the back of his hand down the side of the hunter's face. "You have this awful habit of looking at things as purely black and white. What, you think just because you're not cut out for the simple apple pie life that you can never have a place of your own?"

Sam frowned softly, forehead creasing. "If you mean the bunker, it's a great place. But it's work, too. I have my own room, sure, but it's like..." He contemplated briefly, seeming to search for the right words. "It's like having your own bed in a military barracks. It's hardly home."

"Then what would be?"

Sam paused, biting his bottom lip. "I don't know," he said eventually. "I've never... had a home. Not really." He paused, sighing and shaking his head. "Sorry. Ignore me. I'm just being dramatic."

Lucifer's expression hardened slightly at those words, as if they displeased him. "It's hardly dramatic, Sam. Stop that. Stop this thing you do where you consider wanting anything for yourself as unreasonable."

"It's no big deal," Sam insisted softly. He rolled over, reaching out to the bedside table to check the time on his phone. It was just past eight, practically a lie in by Winchester standards. Even so, he didn't want to move. Luckily, there was also a copy of the newspaper on the table within reaching distance, so Sam pulled it over and opted to flick through it from the comfort of Lucifer's arms.

A headline soon caught his eye about a string of disappearances in Oregon. Police had no leads, suspects spotted nearby seemed to disappear impossibly fast, some bodies recovered from where they'd been dumped in lakes, the blood drained. Vampires, definitely. Likely a whole nest.

"You up for going to Oregon?" Sam questioned.

Lucifer shrugged. "I'll go wherever you go, Sam."

Sam wondered idly if anything in the human world would move Lucifer in the slightest way besides toward hatred. He showed little interest in anything, blanking landmarks and sights Sam considered wondrous with complete disinterest. A few times now, Sam had offered him food to try, most of which Lucifer declared moderately acceptable at best. He seemed mildly curious about the car and its radio and its various functions. And coffee, he didn't seem opposed to coffee. In Sam's whimsical hopes that he could somehow dissuade the devil from causing harm forever, he supposed he hadn't made much progress in convincing Lucifer that humanity was not all that bad. Still, he seemed to be holding Lucifer's full attention for now at least.

"I'm going to get a quick shower before we check out." He sat up, pushing his hair out his face, before glancing back down at Lucifer.

The archangel lay in the bed still, appearing perfectly content, one arm now up behind his head. He eyed Sam languidly, a smirk touching his lips as he caught Sam staring at him.

Sam blushed, but regardless, he leant down and gently kissed him. Honestly, he just wanted to marvel in the fact that he _could_. "I love you," he whispered upon leaning back, almost disorientated with the realisation of just how much he meant it.

Lucifer pushed up from the bed, one hand resting on Sam's thigh as he leant over to kiss him again. It was nearly a full minute before he pulled back. "And I love you, Sam Winchester. Now go get dressed."

* * *

They drove for most of the day. Lucifer had spent a full ten minutes fiddling with the radio before he found a station he was happy with, though he complained every time adverts interrupted music, questioning Sam incessantly on why people kept talking about seemingly random topics. Compared to others- such as Castiel- Lucifer had a fairly good knowledge of pop culture, in basic form, only he knew the significance of none of it. When Sam explained advertising and its purpose, Lucifer merely scoffed and declared humans susceptible fools if they fell for such tactics to convince them to do things.

When they next had to stop due to Sam's basic human needs, it was late afternoon. Sam found a small town area with a selection of shops, taking a late lunch at the nearby diner, before dragging Lucifer into the town.

"Where are we going?" Lucifer questioned.

"To get something to stop you complaining," Sam replied. He eyed each shop as they passed, before finally finding what he was looking for. "Come on."

They stepped through the doorway of a dimly lit place with rows upon rows of CDs, DVDs, blu-rays, and the odd selection of accessories. Some slow rock tune played in the background over the speakers. Each section of the store was labelled with a piece of card at the top of the shelves, reading 'classical' or 'jazz'. Sam led Lucifer over to the aisle with 'classic rock', and 'alternative', leading onto other similar genres nearby. Hours spent together in the car had given him some idea of Lucifer's preferences and he started picking out bands he recalled the archangel having found favourable.

"What are these things?" Lucifer questioned, eying the pile of CDs Sam was now holding.

A young man walking buy gave them an odd look, obviously confused as to how a man who appeared to be in his forties could have never encountered a CD before.

"They play music," Sam said. "No talking." Now clutching at least twenty discs, he headed over to the checkout.

It was a second hand store, and with the revolution of downloadable music, prices were pretty cheap. Besides, Sam figured it worth it to please his difficult companion. Anything that placated Lucifer had to be good, he supposed. Not that he minded Lucifer's views on things much personally, but Sam found it hard to shake off the nagging worry that he would go and take out his feelings on part of the human population.

Bags of CDs in hand, they left the store and headed back towards the car.

It was just beginning to get dark. The temperature had dropped a little and the street lamps along the sidewalks were just beginning to glow. The odd person passed them by, paying them little mind, and assuring himself that they stood out for no other reason than that they were both over six foot, Sam sucked in a breath to steady his nerves and reached out to grasp Lucifer's hand.

Lucifer looked down at their hands curiously, but didn't question it, even adjusting the grip to be slightly more comfortable.

He wondered if Lucifer felt it, too. Whenever they were touching, something just seemed to click within him. It just made everything all feel right, like things slotted into place. Sam had never felt like he'd belonged anywhere, but here, with Lucifer, it was like he found where he fitted into the universe.

Sam paused as they approached the area where the path split off in several direction. The car was just round the corner, but it was nice, walking like this with Lucifer under the dim sky.

"Can we... just wander for a little while?"

"I'm in no rush to get back to sitting in a constricting hunk of metal, Sam."

Sam smiled, squeezing his hand and pulling him off toward a more scenic area with a little square of grass outside a small line of minor convenience shops and a path that led to a small local church.

There was a bench at the side of the grass, so they stopped there for a while, Sam leaving the bag of CDs on the seat beside them.

"It's nice here," Sam said, deciding to bite the bullet and laying his head on Lucifer's shoulder. "Dean never appreciates little places like this. He'd say it was boring."

He suppressed a sigh at the thought of his brother. Honestly, his anger had wained a lot and he felt he should contact him. He'd set his phone to only ring silently for Dean's calls, not even vibrate, so he was unaware of them unless he saw the screen light up, though he still saw the endless missed calls listed. He did feel bad about it, but he was wary of breaking this surreal sense of happiness he'd found with Lucifer, and right now, that came before everything.

"When I regain my full power," Lucifer said. "I'll take you many places you'd like to see, Sam. There are wonders on the earth thankfully untouched by the destructive human nature."

Sam chose to ignore the last part. "I'd like that."

Lucifer curled a hand around the back of his head and pulled him into another kiss, feeling Sam smile against his lips with satisfaction.

Sam couldn't help beaming. He opened his mouth without much coaxing, feeling a pleasant shiver travel up his back as Lucifer slipped his tongue inside. He slid one hand up Lucifer's chest, fingers gripping his shoulder and just brushing the bare skin of his neck, feeling the muscles flex under his grip. He was honestly beginning to consider building up the courage to ask Lucifer to find a hotel so they could take this further, when a sharp woman's voice caused them to break apart.

"That's disgraceful."

They pulled back from each other, both turning to face a small group of three who seemed to have just emerged from the path that led to the church.

"Excuse me?" Lucifer questioned dryly.

"Your behaviour is sin," the woman snapped. "You'll go to Hell for that."

"Oh, don't worry on that account," Lucifer replied, now sounding amused, though Sam's heart was thudding in his chest. "I assure you we've both already been."

"This is not a joking matter, sir," a man said. Sam could see a vicar's collar just under his coat. "God will judge you for your sins."

"God has already well judged me," Lucifer responded, voice now holding just the warning edge of an icy tone. "But what, in creation, do you see here that you believe will displease God?"

It occurred to Sam then that Lucifer was honestly unaware of some of the more conservative views on relationships that were held by many people, even that they were back with religious reasoning.

"Same sex relationships are an abomination," the woman declared, the man and other woman present nodding vigorously.

Sam watched a frown overtake Lucifer's face.

"What?" the archangel questioned, sounding genuinely perplexed and now mildly angry.

"God despises your sinful lust in lying with another man. A man should only lie with a woman, as God intended."

Lucifer now looked as if someone had just tried to tell him that grass was pink and the sky yellow. "And _where_, precisely, did you formulate that idea from?"

"It is the word of God," the man said.

Lucifer looked to Sam, as if expecting Sam to assure him this was all some strange human joke. Sam just stared helplessly back, hunching his shoulders.

Lucifer took a brief moment to lovingly kiss Sam's forehead, as if in blessing, before standing up to face the three. "Your information is horribly misguided."

One of the women scoffed. "I have been a loyal Christian all my life and know the word of the Lord. Attend church and you can hear the word of God for yourself."

"I have heard the word of God," Lucifer replied. "I sat at His side millennia before this putrid planet was ever infested with you ignorant creatures, before the time you keep was even a concept. I learnt His every teaching, I listened to all He said, I asked questions of Him and He gave me answers. I know the words of the Lord from His own Self. And never has He ever spoken in objection to any form of love or affection."

"_You_ think you've heard the word of God?" the first woman sneered.

"I am an angel of the Lord."

It was not often Sam had heard such a fierce and menacing tone from Lucifer. Still seated on the bench, he jumped and pressed up against the back as a sudden burst of light seemed to explode in front of him. Sam stared, wide-eyed, even when it began to make his vision blur and sting. He had seen this before, something like it, something more when he hadn't had eyes that could be burned out of his head, in the cage. And it was beautiful.

Sam had never looked into a star up close, but he thought it must be similar to this. This was a supernova in human form. He could still make out Lucifer's basic shape- well, that of his vessel- but it was surrounded by a shifting, sparkling energy, as if galaxies danced around him. And from his back, there spread the great, colossal shape of a shadow of wings.

The three before them had frozen in pure shock. They were like statues, unmoving from their open-mouthed states until the man dropped to his knees in pure wonder. "My God..."

"Leave," Lucifer commanded, voice reverberating with menace and something like a constant ringing that was perhaps closer to his true voice.

The three figures scrambled away, one of the women now crying and shrieking hysterically as they made their escape.

It was only once they were out of sight that Sam recalled Lucifer's depleted power state, and sure enough, he had to jump up just in time to catch the archangel before he collapsed, all hints of celestial power disappearing.

"Hey," Sam cried out, gripping Lucifer's around the torso as the other slumped against him, head falling onto his shoulder.

Lucifer groaned softly, only letting Sam take his weight for a few moments, before he adamantly pushed himself back to his feet. "I shouldn't have done that," he admitted.

"Not the best idea," Sam said. For many reasons, he couldn't help but think. Thankfully the area was quite secluded, but he was glancing around nonetheless, expecting the police or anyone else to come bursting onto the scene with many awkward questions. "We should go. Are you okay?"

"No. This whole planet is filled with insufferable, stupid creatures," Lucifer snapped.

Sam sighed. "Some people just have stupid views. They're... misguided."

"How could anyone think my Father would be opposed to two people's affections because they're of the same gender?" Lucifer growled. "Is this view common?"

"Not... massively," Sam said cautiously.

"What the hell was Father thinking? _These_ creatures, deserving of our servitude? It's madness. They cannot even get their own worship of Him right. Are there many who make up absurd rules in my Father's name?"

Sam swallowed. "Er... Sometimes. Look, there's just some people who have misunderstood religion, Lucifer. It's generally just silly stuff. There's lots who do get it right," he said quickly.

"Disgraceful," Lucifer declared, turning sharply on his heel. "And they had the nerve to call us that..."

Seeing Lucifer sway slightly, Sam rushed forward to slip an arm around his waist to support him, pulling the archangel against his side, rapt with worry. "Forget it, Lucifer. Please." He felt Lucifer's arm slide around his shoulders and sighed. "Ignore them," he said softly. "They're beneath your anger, right? Come on."

Lucifer seemed placated slightly by that, allowing Sam to escort him back to the car after snatching the bag of CDs up from the bench.


End file.
